The Hellbound Heart
by JeffC FTW
Summary: For the daughter of the Demon Head and the Master of Fear, their love was beyond natural passion and pleasure. Until Crane pays a grisly price, and Talia is the only one to free him from his eternal torment.
1. Meeting

**This is my first time doing a Jonathan Crane/Talia al Ghul story, given there are NONE in this fandom, and I'm literally in love with the Dark Knight trilogy, plus a huge fangirl of Cillian Murphy's Scarecrow. :D I have always wondered what it would be like to do a story about him and Talia al Ghul, daughter of his employer Ra's al Ghul, even give it a twist with "Hellraiser", a movie I have been obsessed with as a child. So, as a start, this story begins before "Batman Begins" and then will proceed some way into the movie before "The Dark Knight", but ignores "Rises" completely. Should be fun for a first time attempting Crane/Talia. :D The story is even named after "The Hellbound Heart", which is a novel by Clive Barker, and the inspiration for "Hellraiser" which was also directed by Barker.**

 **Disclaimer: I own none of Batman or Hellraiser, which is mixed with the storyline.**

Chapter One

Meeting

This was no place for her, but at the same time, she felt it was her duty to be here. Her sole purpose in life was to end corruption; that was how her father trained her early on. She absolutely loathed the criminal underworld feasting like the rats in the streets on the best parts. She would continue her destiny - even forge herself a new one - while vowing never to get her hands filthy again with blood.

Her father had called her a disgrace, called her unworthy of an heir to his line, and for that, she left at age eighteen, not long after her one true friend had been forced to leave her because he was a painful reminder of the past. She'd been born in the same place he had, hardened by agony and suffering as he had been, and he'd protected her all her life, which had planted the seed of envy in her father. Her friend and protector's presence had been an ugly reminder of the loss of the love of his life, her mother. She hated her father ever since coming under his wing after escaping the hell her mother died in. Her prowess and abilities heightened, but so was her anger and rage at those who would harm innocent people for their own selfish ends. She would do the same, but not allow herself be caught and taken by police for questioning. Who would ever think that a young woman who recently relocated from an exotic country on the other side of the ocean and joined Wayne Enterprises - which was the heritage of the man who was currently training under her father - was picking up kicks in the street with thugs? Some would call it defense, but she personally called it justice.

Talia al Ghul - Miranda Tate to the world - was eighteen years old when she left her father, the great Ra's al Ghul, and the League of Shadows to live quietly in the very city he planned to destroy. This city was a haven for injustice, but it was the honorable way for her to be here. Ra's al Ghul would not give up without a fight, and it would be a matter of time once he was done training with this Wayne character, the orphaned son of a philanthropic doctor and his wife who were murdered in front of their own child. In a way, she sympathized because she lost a mother, but long ago she never let her emotions get the best of her.

However, she did the one night she found herself meeting the man who changed her life.

She had enough money to get herself a smaller apartment given you never start out that large in life; the higher the rise, the farther the fall. At least she found it in her to make it feel like home, with hanging rattan lamps and vases from Middle Eastern culture, to the bed sprawled with a design looking like it came from Japan, for the "rising sun" pattern bore lush bamboo. Paradise was a rarity for anyone, for that matter. She had been lavished with it in the monastery, to "make up for lost times", but it was wrong. Here she made her way into the world, blending with the rest of society so she could climb up and help the city when she could.

Wayne Enterprises let her into the science department with Mr. Lucius Fox. He was a good man who knew the late Thomas Wayne well, and Talia had liked him at first sight. She knew from basic instinct that they would be good friends and colleagues, but Mr. Earle who actually was in charge was another story altogether. He'd convinced her that a "lovely girl like yourself should need more than less"; she wasn't a fool to not think that he didn't want something from under the desk. Talia refused, stating that she didn't sleep with men to get what she wanted. In fact, she'd done that enough under her father's order. Sacrifices for the greater good, and that counted his own daughter. She'd felt like a whore; she liked to think that he did this to her because she looked so much like her mother, but they never discussed her after she died.

Tonight was Friday night, and she was free to roam the streets. She was in a black silk blouse and jeans when she strolled in like royalty, getting some men's eyes on her. She was used to this by now. Ignoring them all, she sat down at the bar and called for a Smirnoff, the bartender winking at her, not bothering to ask for her age. She looked old enough to be twenty-two years old instead of eighteen. However, she sensed another coming to join her.

"How about _I_ buy you the drink, baby?" She could smell the beer on his breath. Talia shifted away when he leaned in and tried to kiss her.

"No thank you," she said politely, moving to slip off her stool, but his hand was on her arm and pulling her his way.

"Now that's not polite, little lady," the big man drawled. "When I see something, I want it, and I get it, do you understand? Now show me some respect and let me buy you a drink."

"I believe she specifically said no thank you," a new voice said coldly.

Talia found herself staring at a pair of glacier blue eyes in a gracefully carved, angelic face framed by wavy dark hair, those eyes framed with a slim pair of glasses tinting maniacally as they eyed the man with his hand on her. This one was nowhere near her bother's height and size, but those eyes seemed to freeze the bigger one on the spot. It impressed her. Who was this man who came to her side when she didn't really need it?

"Excuse me, little man, but I don't believe I was talking to you."

The other, younger man with the spectacles took a couple steps forward and put his face into the other's, sniffing in disgust. "But _I_ am talking to you, and once again, if you don't take your hands off of her, I will make you."

The muscled man laughed as though being told a joke. "Well, how about I make you leave this way?" To demonstrate, he raised his fist and struck a blow to the smaller male's face, sending him to the ground, and Talia's energy burst when she brought her knee up to his most vulnerable spot. He fell forward, groaning in pain. He tried to swing another punch at her, but she dodged it, choosing to swing her leg up and clock him in the jaw, where he fell backwards and onto his back. Knowing he was down, Talia spat at him before hurrying over to the other man who was just picking up his glasses after checking to make sure they weren't broken. She helped him stand because she felt it was her concern even if it wasn't. And the man objected. "I'm fine. I don't need your help."

"Excuse me," she returned, looking into his eyes again, which were her color if icier, "but I took care of that brute, so at least let me -" She stopped when she saw his left cheek reddening, sure to leave a bruise. "Oh. That will need an ice pack." Another abnormality was his nose bleeding. "Let's go to my apartment so I can give it to you." He snorted when he looked down at her face but didn't object again; he said nothing more to her when she took him into her Mustang and drove them back, far away from this downtown district. She didn't really care about the silence between them, but what could they talk about when they didn't even know each other? And she was bringing him back to her home only to help his swelling face - _which was so beautiful. Not masculine, but very ethereal._ His cheeks were high and almost feminine, and Talia found herself looking briefly at his lips which she tried not to stare at. They were soft and full. How could he be male like this? She deliberated this until they came to her home and she parked the car.

"Wait here." Talia gestured him to sit on the loveseat while she went to the kitchen and grabbed a sandwich bag, putting some ice cubes in from the freezer and returning to her guest's side, handing it to him. "There," she said softly, watching him remove his glasses and showing a less intimidating person altogether. Now she could strike up conversation. "What's your name? My name is Miranda Tate."

He lowered the pack to his lap. She noted that he wore a pressed dark suit and tie, his shirt crisp white, showing the hint of a sweater vest. She assumed he must be important of some sort. "Jonathan Crane," he said finally. "Head doctor of the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

Ah, yes, the administration for locking up the mentally insane criminals if deemed unfit for prison sentence. Keeping them off the streets even though more came every day. Talia helped with the donations every day to keep it that way as well as to simply give the asylum more fundings - she had never actually met its director, much less heard the name. Even if she considered it, she'd never thought he would be so... "Miss Tate?" His voice brought her attention back from staring at his lips, which moved so gracefully and let loose words spoken with hypnotic suave. She'd known many intriguing men in her life, but Dr. Crane fascinated her utterly.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's very late, and would you like a lift back home?"

He shook his head and stood, taking the ice pack with him. "I thank you, but no. I don't live far," he answered. Nodding to her, he was out the door. She watched him go and went for the window as soon as the door closed. Crane was striding the sidewalk away from the complex. Talia knew he was lying when he said he didn't live far; Arkham Asylum was in the Narrows, on the other side of the bridge. Housing the most ridden filth and crime than main Gotham. A man like him was simply asking for trouble - and living in it, wallowing in it.

~o~

It didn't take long for him to track down the man who tried to come onto Miss Tate, whom Jonathan Crane had no idea why he had to step in to save in the first place. He wasn't the heroic type, nor was he what everyone would call a "good man" if they knew about what he was up to in the basement of his own asylum. He wouldn't label himself anything by any means; if he wanted something, he went for it. He didn't care any longer what anyone thought of him. However, he was prepared for drastic means if anyone tried to take what belonged to him.

Dr. Crane smiled behind his burlap mask he kept on him at all times, gazing down at the writhing beast, screaming and crying for mercy like his other subjects to date. This was his personal brand of justice if the system itself was corrupt on all levels. No one would have done anything about it had something terrible happened to her and it had been reported to the police, so he took care of it himself.

He still didn't know why he decided to rescue the girl. But the moment she walked through the door - he'd seen her before, but it had been outside the bar - he wondered why she was even here. Her name was Miranda Tate, and he was determined to learn about her, after tonight. He wanted to know what she feared - she bore a strong shell, but even the strongest person feared something - and whatever secrets she might be hiding. She seemed so powerful, so mysterious...and something worth exploring.

"Please," the insolent pig on the ground before him cried, reaching up to him and clawing through air. "Please, make it stop! Get them off of me!"

Crane laughed, his voice coming out as a rattling rasp through the speakers. _"And what exactly is the matter? The doctor is here to help you,"_ he crooned, leaning down now and brushing his knuckles against the man's brow, making him flinch.

"The chains - the chains - they're suffocating me! They won't let me go!"

Crane let loose another laugh; it was indeed laughable. Chains shackled you, prevented you from what and who you loved most. His own world had tried to do that to him as a young boy, until he broke free from them and the ones who tried to bind him with them. They thought they could destroy him, but his inner strength had thus grown and became all too easy to ignore. _"It's no less than you deserve,"_ he sneered down at the man, standing then and pulling the sleeve of his jacket over the canister strapped to his wrist. He'd given him a large enough dose to drive ten of his side of the species mad; it would be a matter of time before he succumbed to death from his fear. It was no less than he deserved for disrespecting a young woman and punching him in the face. He would be sporting a bruise on his cheek, and people would wonder where he got it, but he would not give them the satisfaction. He would pay them for their silence and no questions asked.


	2. Fear

**I apologize if I'm rushing anything in this story, but seeing as everyone pretty much knows the background of Talia al Ghul and Jonathan Crane - though I'm thinking something else for Jonathan based on his origin in "Gotham", most notably the idea of a more realistic telling than the comic version of his abusive grandmother, which I support with every fiber of my being; it is sort of based off of his origins in the Dark Knight comic issue, however. Also, the name of the patient Jonathan handles in here is a minor OC I own, but I'm unsure if the name is one I came up with or if it is coincidental.**

Chapter Two

Fear

"Hmm, fascinating," Crane mused as he read over the information, three weeks later, on Miranda Tate. "Thank you, Nina. I won't need anything else," he told his assistant without looking up at her. She answered welcome and left without another word. Jonathan paid no mind of her exit, only continued to peruse the file. She was an employee in the Applied Sciences division of Wayne Enterprises, and a personal philanthropist. Eighteen years old and already accepted, childhood said to have spent in Istanbul and worked all her life, mostly since she was fourteen. She was brilliant, but why would she be working in the lowliest section of the greatest business of Gotham if this was the case?

 _Everyone starts from the bottom and work their way up,_ his mind whispered to him. He acquiesced there and ceased his questions on Miss Tate. She was a young woman with a bright future ahead of her, but chances were he might not see her again - but anything was possible. His mind was always open.

He found himself looking at her face in the photograph taken not long after her arrival here in Gotham. Piercing blue eyes as wide as the sky, embedded in a soft honey-golden face framed by luscious chestnut waves. Her naturally dark, full lips were pressed in a firm line defined between a smile and a scowl, as though she was in between happy being here in Gotham and not.

His ringer buzzed. _"Dr. Crane? Miss O'Brien is ready for you now."_

He nodded and pressed the button. "I'll be there. Five minutes or less." He opened the top drawer of his desk and put Miranda Tate's file in place, locking it so no one else found it.

Amanda O'Brien had been his patient for two years. Her case involved severe erogenous trauma, but the case ran that much deeper - she suffered from RTS, known as rape trauma syndrome. Her stepfather had been involved, his semen found in her upon examination by the hospital, and she'd been brought here, expected to make a full recovery which could very much take months. Jonathan considered her a suitable candidate, and she'd been ever since then. She proved vital to his research and made improvements over time unlike some before her.

However, since he hadn't been able to create an antidote yet, it didn't seem possible that Miss O'Brien would ever leave the institute so soon.

She was crying when he arrived in her room, where the nurses were just checking up and setting up the IV. She had agraphobia, which was exactly what she endured. The fear of sexual abuse was not only observed in victims who witnessed the hysteria or simply learned about it through sensational news headlines regarding such cases and vowed to never be exposed; it was common in real victims of assault, such as this one. "There, now, how are we doing?" Crane asked gently as he leaned over her. She was currently trembling slightly, taking in deep, rapid breaths - oh, and her heart was beating at an erratic pace, he noted when he applied the stethoscope. Common symptoms of agraphobia. He sighed. So many of them were alike in the symptom department, but that never stopped him.

 _Something admirable about someone who won't stop,_ his other, narcissistic self whispered to him, making him smile when sweet little Amanda whimpered and turned her head from him. "S-stay away from me," she whispered. All of his patients knew who he really was and feared him for it, but no one would really believe them. Jonathan smiled broader, his back turned to the nurses. Fear was the driving force of life; it was the king of all human emotions, and if no one felt it, no protection from danger ahead as well as no facing the danger ahead.

~o~

Her lips were throbbing from chewing too hard on them as she helped Mr. Fox check in the latest configuration of the Tumbler. This was a remarkable military-inspired vehicle - also having a touch of the Lamborghini - and equipped with all of the necessities for combat, such as cannons and outer armor to protect from exterior damage. The sad fact was that while this poor vehicle could function perfectly, and was constantly checked upon and taken care of, there was never the right use for the outside world or even a bridge made for it.

But Talia was mostly focused on the unexpected dream she'd had not long after her meeting with Dr. Jonathan Crane, which progressed in the three months that followed. Dreams in which she was kissing him with uncontrollable passion, resulting in bruises and coloring skin, heat searing the flesh and blood, their bodies together and hands exploring, and finally waking up in sweat and throbbing below. It was always the same thing, and a few times Mr. Fox would snap her out of her reverie, teasing her about it. "Earth to Miranda, is there something on your mind?"

"Nothing really," she lied, but he saw right through her, giving an amused, knowing smirk.

"Let me guess, you've found some guy already."

"Mr. Fox!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with a laugh, bringing the clipboard to her chest.

"Lucius, remember? We're more friends instead of employer and assistant," he reminded her gently.

"Yes, Lucius," she answered. "Well, you could say that. But let's say it was one meeting only, and for some reason, he's been on my mind ever since then. We met at a bar downtown one Friday night." She looked down at the clipboard and checked some more off before continuing. "Some big man tried to come onto me, and he was there to help me, but got a swing to the face. I knocked the fiend down myself and took my rescuer back for an ice pack. But _nothing_ happened," she added at the chuckle he gave her.

He shook his head. "Miranda, I told you that a pretty girl like you should get out more often, and you took my word. But why haven't you seen him again after that night? And do you remember his name?"

Talia wasn't afraid to tell him. "Dr. Jonathan Crane."

His face contorted into surprise immediately. "Dr. Crane, head of Arkham Asylum? Hmm, I never thought you'd find interest in him of all people."

Talia shrugged. "I wouldn't say exactly that it is interest. He just...simply caught my eye, that is all." _Simple eye catch, when "strange" dreams occur once every week or so? Hardly._

Lucius nodded even though he looked doubtful. "He's a bit of a strange one, Miranda," he told her, walking past her and to the computers. "Odd and distant, and I've met him a few times before. Matter of fact, his father used to run the asylum before him, and his mother passed away when he was born, at least from what I heard about him. But other than that, devoid of anything involving people other than his 'fascination with the understanding of the human mind'." Talia pursed her lips at this newfound information. Her father used to tell her that fear gave you great power as your anger did, but if you let it, it would destroy you. She learned that he was a psychologist specializing with phobias - he proved just now to be an interesting study - yet she also sympathized with him because they'd lost mothers early in their lives. But she didn't know anything about him. Talia felt something inside her stir, which she had never felt before, and it slightly bothered her because in the League, there had been very little to no physical contact. Her father forbade her from linking with anyone in their ranks, but he wasn't here now. He felt her virtue was the fuel for the fire that was his power, as other cultures believed the same for their own daughters. But to her, virtue was a burden, lacking thrill. She had always wanted to explore that realm, but the right man never came along; she always wanted her first time...special, if it was put that way. It was mostly fear of the consequences that stopped her. Fear that whatever the worst was that could happen.

~o~

Amanda O'Brien's screams were music to his ears. Her cries as she begged for her imaginary stepfather to stop were unimaginable paradise to his body and his own mind. Scarecrow laughed sadistically behind his mask, relishing it all. He moaned to himself when he felt himself getting aroused; all subjects alike did this to him, for it was fear that roused him, granting him his body's desires. He didn't want this to end even though it had to come to a close. He would be leaving for home soon.

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she howled and sobbed at the same time. Sitting down behind the desk of the basement office, Crane groaned to himself at the painful hard-on in his trousers. He felt if he didn't relieve himself soon, he would end up leaving work with an embarrassing erection. If O'Brien noticed at all, he wouldn't care because this would have served to increase her terrors. His belt loosened and his zipper down, his hand traveled down south and first met with the rough pubic hair before finding his hard length. Crane uttered wordless sounds when he stroked himself, arching his back and his cheeks burning under his mask. He seldom handled himself, having never been with anyone because some mindless woman like the one on the table before him was not worth his time.

And then, for some odd reason, the face of Miranda Tate flashed before his mind while the girl was still crying.

He was unable to stop thinking about her over the course of three months of not going to see her again after she helped him with his face. He remembered sitting nearly so close to her, smelling Moroccan incense, lotus and perhaps Asian fruits off of her. She was soft and gentle, showing kindness to him even though it was brief and even though he didn't need or deserve it. She intrigued him, unlike the patients he handled every day. There was something about her that he'd seen in another person - a man - such as a case of coldness in her eyes that little would spot from a mile away. He wondered how they could possibly be related, but there was no solid proof to this. He was working for said man, and the slightest hint of what he was implied to ask would be very dangerous. The man gave him the key ingredient to his prized hallucinogen he'd expanded from childhood, heightened the compound and led to how it was affecting the woman on the table. The man was very powerful and had him on the line, in his grasp so he couldn't back out if he wanted to.

He groaned when he found his release, shooting himself all out and under the desk. Nobody would go behind it like he did, and no one would ever know but himself. Smiling with satisfaction that his climax had timed perfectly with the end of Miss O'Brien's sobs, Crane fastened himself back into place and stood from behind the desk. He walked over to her and smoothed her hair out from her face. She flinched and jerked her head away from him. He chuckled and reached into his lab coat to pull out the sedative so he could get her back upstairs and into her room.

And now, finally, a visit to a certain lady who clouded his thoughts.

Scarecrow gone for the time being, Jonathan Crane took a taxi up to the middle-class section of Gotham, finding Miranda Tate's correct number and walking up the stairs. A part of him wondered what he would get from this if she wasn't interested in him, and rejection was the last thing on his mind. He certainly didn't want to force her into it, either. He was many things, but a rapist wasn't among them. Waiting for the door to open felt like an eternity before it opened to show her standing there in a jewel-toned silk caftan of pure luxury unfitting for a seemingly lower-class girl. Her long hair in luscious curls over one shoulder made it irresistible to look away from. Jonathan wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her before she spoke.

"Dr. Crane. What a surprise. I never thought I'd see you again."


	3. Desire

**Based on knowledge of the sexual nature of Talia and Crane, Talia doesn't really care as long as it's the man she wants, and as for Crane, it ranges based on what others think. He's obviously never been with anyone before because his research is important, though I think he might be extremely nervous about messing this up since it's common for a virgin, or maybe he just loves being in control so much he tends to get rough. ;D**

Chapter Three

Desire

Jonathan Crane, back here at her home. Standing in the middle of her doorway at seven o'clock in the evening. What could Talia say? It was unexpected, and she was about to go to bed in a couple hours. And they hadn't seen each other for three months now, so what was his story? Talia wasn't sure what to say, so all she could do was stare into his eyes, frozen by those icy orbs calculating her with a scientist's precision. She wasn't intimidated by anything anymore, so he didn't affect her besides one way - heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, like a hot core underneath ice. She had the slightest feeling why he was here, when they never had the chance to do so before, but was that really why he was here?

"Miss Tate," he began.

"Miranda," she interrupted, stepping aside for him to come in. "And continue." She closed the door behind him.

He was looking around her apartment, smiling slightly before looking back to her. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he apologized, "but for weeks now, I've pondered how I...wanted to see you again." His cheeks flushed slightly pink, nervously shifting on his feet. "I honestly do not know how to say it, because of the fact you and I barely know each other, hardly exchanged more than a few words, and I want nothing more than to get to know you. But tonight, I wanted to start by coming and telling you that I feel..." He paused there, lowering his eyes to the floor. Talia knew where he was going now, and she sucked in a breath, getting his attention back to her.

"I know what you're trying to say, Jonathan," she whispered, knowing it was right to call him by his first name. "You don't have to explain any further. Come here." She reached out with both hands, and he stepped forward, placing each hand over each of hers. The moment their hands joined, electricity lit her body's nerves up, her heart picking up its rhythm. She had never known anything like this before; fear and longing thrummed inside her. She wanted this and she knew it, but what if this was too soon?

 _You want this,_ her mind whispered. _Look into his eyes and see that he does, too. You both have plenty of time to get to know each other. You know it's true._

"Are you sure we're not rushing?" He'd asked as though he read her mind. "I want you, Miranda, but I swear I won't force you into this..."

"No, I want you," she admitted. "Give in now and worry about the details later. I promise I won't regret tonight, Jonathan."

He smiled softly and leaned in, briefly taking her lips with his, chastely and innocently. It was as though he'd never kissed a woman in his life. This was her first, too. She was eighteen and a woman now, yet she was still an untouched virgin. But no longer, soon enough. "Where's your bed?" Jonathan's question was low and rough now, hungry, and his eyes darkened with lust that it enflamed the place between her thighs even more. Talia led him in the other direction where her bedroom door was opened and showing the Asian-inspired bed. She watched as Jonathan did the honors of undressing first, his jacket, tie and shirt gone first to show a pale, slender torso with light musculature like a pre-pubescent boy's. Her body's temperature rose higher that she finally shed her caftan to show that she wore nothing underneath, that she was already naked for him. His lips twitched with amusement as he removed the last of his clothes, showing narrow hips and a long, slender member jutting out at her. Talia could feel the wet heat below leaking out just from the sight of him.

She sat down at the foot of the bed, keeping her legs spread and performing what was called foreplay. His eyes never left her, following the directions her hands went, from running through her hair and down her shoulders to over her breasts, playing with the nipples until they were hard as pebbles, over her firm, flat stomach and sides, squeezing the flanks and then her hips, eventually reaching her thighs, all the while her arousal came in heavier drips. His erection was quivering, telling her he didn't want to wait any longer. She crawled onto the bed, keeping her legs open for him. He joined her, ready to join his body with hers. Jonathan no longer appeared nervous; she detected an animal in his place, and the warrior in her was back, ready for a "good time".

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked. He chuckled and shook his head, making her smile. "Neither have I."

Jonathan's smirk was devious. "I'll remember to be gentle, at my best."

He kissed her for awhile, his mouth possessing hers, before moving away to her neck, nibbling on her jugular vein which caused her to writhe beneath him, her body spasming and her legs spreading wider until they strained and wrapped around his waist, her ankles pressing against his rounded but slim backside. His manhood pressed against her, coming into contact with the sensitive nub between her folds, pleasure jolting throughout her abdomen. Jonathan's mouth attacked her breasts then, kissing and massaging at the same time, briefly flicking over both buds, then finally drawing back to elevate his body upwards as well as his hips so he could enter her properly, her slick entrance enabling him to sweep inside and come into contact with the symbol of her innocence - and broke it in less than a few seconds. Her vulva was soon flaring with pain; Talia cried out a little, but pain never bothered her any longer. She moaned when it faded as Jonathan began to rock his hips inside and out, purring now and closing his eyes as he savored their consummation.

"Ahhh...your body is now my territory to claim."

Another woman in her place...she wasn't sure how that one would react, but Talia felt like letting the slightest hint of a tear to roll down her cheek at the powerful feeling those words invoked in her. She felt truly beautiful at the present, giving herself to an equally beautiful, mysterious man she met once just weeks before. Mystery and danger excited her to her very core. Those eyes were still closed, much to her disappointment, for she wanted to see those beautiful blues. "Look at me, Jonathan," she begged.

He opened them then, looking down at her, plump lips parted slightly as he beheld the sight of her. Then his gaze traveled down, a hand coming up to briefly pinch a breast in his hold, making her moan again. "I never...imagined this way," he murmured. "I never knew what this would be like."

Talia ran her palm up his chest, finding his left nipple and brushing her thumb over it, making him moan softly. It wasn't masculine, but it wasn't feminine either. "Mmmm." Grinning, she relocated down his stomach and over his flank and hip, then his back to gently scratch her nails on his soft, unmarked skin, finally down to the left side of his rear end, making him jerk slightly, the gesture telling her it was demeaning. She remembered it just now, that stroking and fondling the male rear was an insult to his self-esteem. She settled her hand back on his back, bringing her other to it as well, bucking her hips upwards for him to continue.

"Ohhh!" Her fingers lost control and curled inward, her nails scraping into his skin enough to leave little marks. Jonathan hissed above her and arched his head backwards, eyelids squeezing tightly shut and his mouth in a wide "O". He liked it rough, and now she wanted it rough. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at her again, the gleam in his eyes now on a predatory level that burned the pits of her desire even higher. And suddenly, with the grace of an Indian or perhaps any Middle Eastern snake, his head struck downwards and latched his teeth onto her shoulder, biting into it but not piercing the skin, just enough to leave a bruise. Talia could barely suppress an even higher cry of pain and pleasure than before. Things had taken a turn for the better. Her hands found their way to his shoulders now, grasping them for dear life as Jonathan began to pick up his pace like a wild creature that shouldn't exist in this world, not going back until he got what he came here for. His sounds had become intense growls of greed and yearning, his mouth journeying back down to her breasts as though he couldn't get enough of them. "Ah, don't stop!" she blurted out. She'd turned into a helpless girl in a matter of time, and he seemed to notice himself, which happened to rouse him even more on his part.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he purred. "This is only the beginning." _And an extremely long, momentous beginning._

Talia found herself breathing the smell of him, detecting musk, assorted greens, and...green tea. Mmm, she wanted to devour all of him as he was doing to her now. She wanted nothing more than for this night to last forever, not go to work tomorrow, call in sick just to spend the whole day with Jonathan, but she doubted he would do the same for her. She knew, once more from basic instinct, that he enjoyed rough sex better because it totaled up to additional paradise in their mating. Her body stretched far and wide enough for him to rock inside and out in faster movements, hitting the correct spot of her cervix perfectly and reacting the sweetness that spread throughout her body until she could not hold onto herself and her own mind any longer. Talia closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side, opening them again and looking up again when Jonathan begged her to as she did to him earlier. His glowing skin was sweating now from the speed of his thrusts and the heatwaves, his eyes demanding that she continue to give herself to him in absolute surrender. She complied and surrendered her body, mind - heart - and soul to him until the pleasure finished its spiral, and her back arched when her muscles contracted in her climax around him, and his explosion hotter than anything that ever burned her flesh entered her faster than any river in the world.

~o~

Jonathan lay on his back now, staring up at the ceiling, with Miranda curled up beside him and running her hands over his body. Her touch was so sweet and soft that he never dreamed of anything like this. He had received very little of anything like this in his life. His father had deprived him of all things happy, exposing him only to what he drove for today; after his father died, he lived in the hospital and under the care of Dr. Arkham for the time being until he got into college. Girls were not his priority simply because of his observances from afar - but this one had changed him, somehow...and he felt _it_ coursing through his veins. He wouldn't call it fear because he wouldn't acknowledge himself afraid of anything in his life. His father tried to do it to him, exposing him to various horrid faces of his own makings and nightly terrors which ended with minimum sleep. He had never had any good dreams by any means.

Nothing good in his life was ever permanent, so now he realized _this_ between him and Miranda couldn't last forever. He saw it in her eyes that she wanted it to, but she was still but a young woman who still had more to learn; he was barely even thirty and knew more than she did. The minute her dainty hand stroked his thigh and was now moving inwards - "No," he said abruptly, pulling himself away. "It's not going to last." He hastily stood from the bed and reached down to slip on his briefs. "After tonight, I might not end up seeing you again."

He didn't look at her again to know she was now sitting up. "Jonathan, how can you say that?" Clearly wouldn't be the word of use; she was literally shocked. "We _can_ make this work between us now. What's stopping you?"

For the sake of his pride and what was left of his sanity, Jonathan couldn't tell her much of anything. "If I told you, you wouldn't understand. There are still things about me you wouldn't accept. You would spurn me, crawl away in disgust." Now that he thought about his experiments, should she ever learn about them, who knew if she would report to the police or not. He knew for sure he wouldn't be able to take the chance of letting her slip away; by means of keeping her silent and protecting his life's work, he would have to drastically keep her locked up somewhere so they would be close for as long as it would have to be.

And then, as soon as his shirt was on and halfway buttoned up, he felt _arms_ wrapped around his body. Miranda was _embracing_ him. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her face angled so it was facing him. "I won't hate you for it, and I swear I won't leave you. I'll stay with you and accept whatever secrets you are hiding. I promise I will do _anything_ for you." Her hands moved upwards, working to undo the buttons and bare his flesh once again to her touch. Jonathan melted under it; it amazed him how his body's desires survived a whole life of no acknowledgement until now. Were they truly that destined to be?

"Anything?" he asked softly, turning his face halfway around to meet hers, receiving a peck on the cheek.

"Anything," she swore. "Now, please, come back to bed?"

 **Finale where she promises to do anything he wants of her, thanks to two of the main characters of "Hellraiser", Frank and Julia Cotton, both baddies but really fun to watch. :) The story between them was that she was a new bride, married to his brother, only for him to come along and sweep her into a world of dark desires - which ultimately leads to unimaginable terror. Stay tuned for more!**


	4. Puzzles

**Now we're getting in deep with the plot, ladies and gents. ;) No spoilers, just enjoy. For those who read the novel "The Hellbound Heart", you'll see references to certain parts. And the origins of the famed puzzle box are from the fourth movie of the franchise, "Bloodline", one of my favorites. The first movie was absolute perfection, the second not better but always fun to enjoy, and the fourth mentioned VERY interesting to say the least. :D**

 **Once more, I own neither Batman or Hellraiser.**

Chapter Four

Puzzles

The presentation of the newest addition for the Museum of Antiquities in Gotham was held at the annual charity ball. Having been inspired after the numerous museums of the same name - consisting of all things Greek, Roman, and Egyptian alike and filled with assorted treasures of the ancient world - this was one place Talia would feel most happy to come to, in her heart to restore balance to the world. But the sadness was that here she was, wearing one of the jewels sent to her by her father – how did he find out she was living in the city that was the haven for the most wretched of scum in the world? But there was nothing much he could do; she had been guaranteed freedom, and it was her life. But that did not lessen her hatred any less. She was wearing an amber satin dress with falling shoulder straps, the skirt falling to her calves, the opals gleaming around her neck and in her hair, which was in turn curled at the tips. Around her right wrist was her favorite bracelet, which shimmered lustrous gold like the coils of a serpent. She loved being here tonight; this was what she always wanted to do without resorting to violence even though she grew up in it; she had been born in a place of hell, her mother died in that place when she was a child, and she escaped it not too long after and had to leave her protector and friend to find the father she never knew - separated from her mother by her grandfather, a tyrant of the Middle East.

"The Lament Configuration," the curator presented proudly on display, "was first crafted in the late eighteenth century by a French toymaker named Philip Lemarchand. He was commissioned for its creation by the wealthy Duc de L'Isle, a man supposedly obsessed with black magic, a leader of the occult. Philip was so proud of his work, the work that would establish his name as well as his family. But he was oblivious, at the time, of the great, unspeakable powers that the box contained and would release: the evil, the sins…the pain."

And there it was on display for the whole world to see – a three-dimensional box of six faces like any other, but its design was unlike any other Talia had ever seen before. Gold-and-black, etched with mystic motifs. Her heart was threatening to leap into her throat. This was what her father had obsessively talked about finding for lifetimes…Lemarchand's box, or the Lament Configuration. He had been told that the box did contain wonders no man or woman had ever ventured to before. The curator was still speaking.

"De L'Isle and his apprentice began their work by murdering a peasant woman the young man brings into their manor; they removed her innards and flesh, and using this skin pierced with hooks and suspended off the floor of the dining room…" His story with such vivid, grotesque imagery sent shockwaves of terror through the nerves and heart chambers of the attending socialites and lesser people, but Talia listened on with fascination, as did her date beside her, none other than Dr. Jonathan Crane, her lover of the past six months. "…and conjured a demon in the dead woman's flesh, serving as theirs to command unless they stood in Hell's way. However…" His voice dropped to a lower, menacing tone for the story's next bit: "…de L'Isle is murdered by both his own pupil and the horror they summoned. Lemarchand felt responsible for the creation of his own proud work that he never before comprehended would bring forth demons, and therefore sought to steal the box and destroy it himself, but he was discovered and killed by the pair. He was survived by his wife and unborn child, but it's unknown as to whether or not his line is still surviving."

 _A door to another dimension…to heaven or hell…_ Talia thought, gripping her champagne flute while trying her best not to accidentally break it in her hands. It occurred to her, knowing her father, that either he wanted the box for himself to use it as a weapon against his enemies – or another, more demented plan to indulge himself in the pleasures of hell…

"I've never been one to believe in this nonsense," Jonathan whispered to her, in her ear while standing behind her. "Fascinating stories and finds - and this is one of the greatest and long-needed discovery and addition yet - but I'm on the rational side." He didn't want to be here to begin with, wanting to be in his laboratory with the chemicals; he told her that he was devising a chemical that could help people face their fears and take it away. But she sensed there was more than what he was telling her.

"Of course you are," Talia whispered, although she barely heard him, regretfully. His theories on fear were her shared passion, the case being that fear was what the League of Shadows applied every day, and yet it worried her all the same. There was no way he could know that she was actually the daughter of a global international terrorist bent on cleansing the world in his own way. She was going to protect him, no matter what.

And then she felt it - a light, feathery kiss place upon her bared shoulder, and she sighed at the tingling sensations radiating from there to over her breasts, prompting her nipples to harden. "Tonight?" he purred against her neck.

"I'll be there," she promised.

~o~

"Subject has reacted to physical touch, screams that her stepfather took away what meant most to her," Jonathan cited aloud as he jotted down the latest update on Amanda O'Brien in his notebook. "Nothing else has changed since our last session, but I believe she is on the verge of permanently losing her mind, and two years has been long enough for her." He finished with a secret smile to himself, relishing it all until his mobile rang. Sighing and putting his pen down, he answered it. "Crane."

 _"Was I interrupting anything important?"_

He smiled wryly. "Mr. Ducard. Not at all. Just finishing up with the newest subject. Though," he added with mild disappointment, "nothing changed in her. The results are the same as ever."

 _"A pity, but also necessary,"_ his employer replied. He could almost picture him nodding briefly. _"Nevertheless, I am pleased with the progress made. The next shipment of blue flowers will arrive in a few days as will the next payment. I trust you have what you owe me in return ready."_

"Of course, sir. I shall send it out to you the day before the shipment arrives." By the time the city was held for ransom, he would have his own share for the funding of the making of his toxin; there would just be no way he could make the city or anyone else in the world understand his work. Perhaps if they refused, they would know the true nature of fear. He certainly looked forward to an entire city screaming with terror; he wondered if he would ever hear it whilst in the streets. "Forgive me," he said, "but I have to let you go. I have someone waiting for me."

 _"A woman, I gather?"_ Ducard teased, making him snort.

"You have it right, but no discussion. To keep it brief, her name is Miranda. Works with Wayne Enterprises."

Ducard chuckled. _"Wayne Enterprises, eh? Is she young?"_

Jonathan wasn't intending on giving too much information away, but he complied. "Almost nineteen, but she's very mature, very beautiful, strong and intelligent. But for someone like her, she is a mere assistant." Actually, Miranda could at least prove vital to his research now that he felt like he was beginning to trust her; if he could somehow persuade her to be his lab assistant and expose her to his secret life...

 _"Jonathan, my boy, perhaps it's best if I let you go. Wouldn't want to keep your Miranda waiting then."_ He barely acknowledged the click of the line ending. All he could think of now was getting home to Miranda. He'd purchased a jar of something he wanted to try with her that he found in him to research for "making love better".

~o~

Talia admired herself in the mirror; she was once again in her caftan because Jonathan loved it better on her than any lingerie in the world, and she had to agree. She would never waste any money on skimpy lingerie in the world. All she cared about was being comfortable. She had just washed her hair, and now it hung loosely down her back, still damp but giving off a sensual and alluring aroma of cherry blossoms and Asian ginseng. Then her moment was interrupted when there was a knock on the door. Grinning, she walked out of her bedroom and crossed for the front door. "Jonathan!" she cried out happily; they had been together for six months and the spark hadn't diminished. Safe to say she had never been so happy in her life. She laughed when he picked her up and had her wrap her legs around him so he could bring her over to the bed. She was dropped onto the bed. Lying on her back, the skirt of her dress riding up to show her thighs by fractions, staring up at him in his buttoned down collar shirt and slacks opened in the front, her arousal was by now to the brink of being fully alive.

Jonathan was over her, eyes filled with that same malicious bloodlust she knew all too well from the very first sight - this time possessing her, which thrummed her to her core, her nectar threatening to spill through and soak through her caftan, as she had chosen not to wear any underwear tonight. Jonathan followed her eyes down her body, a smirk twisting his luscious lips as he brought his fingers up her smoothed leg up to her sex hidden underneath the purple-and-teal silk, teasing the slit hidden beneath the mound of curls she'd trimmed just tonight and just for him. She moaned at the eletrical jolt of pleasure of his manicured finegertip on her nub. The feeling was wondrous, even if he was taking control instead of her…

"Hey!" she cried when she found her hands tied on either side of her head to the bed by rope that had somehow been looped around her wrists when she was distracted by his fingers on her. How it all happened was the question. She tugged on the thin ropes experimentally only to find that her place of power wasn't in her hands after all tonight. She cried in mock-outrage. "You're supposed to let _me_ do it all tonight! I'm the queen, and this is my palace chamber!" She jerked her head in every direction of the room in exotic themes. Her lover merely chuckled and shook his head, sitting back on his heels as he slipped off his trousers and underwear to show his lovely masculinity, half a hint of his pubic hairs seen over his left inner thigh.

"Not this time, Your Majesty," he mocked, working on his shirt, buttoning it all the way down to reveal marble flesh stretched over a lean body she knew too well - a body whose contours she explored without guilt or sin and brought reactions better than nature or science. And now he was going to do the same to her.

"Your Majesty?" she mocked, giggling like a madwoman when he began to tease her by pushing her dress up from the bottom slowly - painfully slow by her standards - his fingers tickling the skin between her splayed legs as he exposed her weeping sex to the open air of the room. Her caftan had been pushed up to her arms and pushed behind her head so that she was completely naked to his eyes once more, her breasts domed like those of an Indian temple's to his eyes - those icy blues that darkened like a glacier from the setting sun and impending twilight at the sight of her. Feeling rather than seeing, his fingers returned to her, this time covered with a warm, liquid-like substance coating those slim fingers and bringing forth a pleasure unlike any other she'd felt before, more jolts shooting through like a positive atom charge. The smell of apples filled her nostrils, reminding her of the Forbidden Fruit…

She moaned when she felt the familiar size of Jonathan fill her, and her "disdain" over having no control was completely forgotten.

Jonathan was asleep with her by the time they reached the end. However, by the time he was really asleep - tomorrow was a Saturday for them both - Talia slowly slipped out of bed and dressed into all black - hooded jacket and tank, as well as stretch pants and soft-soled boots - so she could head out and look for what she needed. She had to evade the security system, perhaps deactivate if necessary, and sneak into his office to see his classified files. There were too many puzzles to solve about what he was really up to, and tonight would be the end of it - and perhaps she shouldn't be too surprised with whatever he was hiding from her. She had her share of secrets, but hers were far more advanced than his.

However, when she finally reached Dr. Jonathan Crane's director's office and unlocked his most secured, classified information that wasn't related to work, she wasn't the least bit surprised - but she wasn't too calm either.


	5. Proposals

**When I said that Jonathan's origins are inspired by the Dark Knight issue, I forgot what year that was. XD My boyfriend reads the comics while I prefer media and literature.**

Chapter Five

Proposals

 _My toxin's effects have in no way changed, but the results are the same yet better than ever. Subjects continue to show ultimate signs of overwhelming terror, continue to scream and attempt to fight off what isn't there, what exists only in their mind. It still amazes me how that they were once in such control over their own lives but now under the influence of my fear gas, they cry like helpless children thrashing in their sleep in nightmares. It brings such pleasure to my body so much like the way a certain woman in my life does. Imagine what it would be like to hear the whole city scream that way._

 _However, I need more funding for my research, but the city fathers would in no way grant it, and nor would Wayne Enterprises despite their generous donations to the hospital._

 _Mr. Ducard has provided me with a rare blue poppy flower that has come from Asia, a floral that the rest of the world has not seen including myself. Nevertheless, the organic compound has proven vital to the strength of the hallucinogen. He has taken pride with my employment and believes in me, unlike anyone else has ever in my life. My father's toxin was once his and is now mine, but I have far exceeded him and can see a bright future for it once I make everyone see the true nature of fear -_

She'd stopped her reading of the journal then, her heart racing but not out of fear - and at the same time, it was fear, because "Ducard" was her father's alias to conceal his true identity. Jonathan, the man she had fallen for, was working for her _father_. She quickly closed it and put it back with the rest of what proved more than what Jonathan had told her about his fear experiments - the files of his patients - and it was a stack as long as the middle of her forearm. She knew it all along, that what he was doing was illegal, and experimenting on his patients to exploit and attempt to understand their worst fears. The latest was a patient named Amanda O'Brien. A victim of sexual molestation with agraphobia.

She found herself fascinated on the block.

But there was also the matter of her father. Did Jonathan know who he was dealing with? _Apparently not,_ her mind whispered, before, _Or perhaps yes. But how can I be sure without blowing my cover?_

Either way, Jonathan was in trouble and didn't know it.

There had to be a way she could speak to him without blowing up their relationship as well as to keep an eye on his contacts with her father...who she knew was the man he was working for.

~o~

"Miranda Tate is here to see you, sir."

"Send her in." Jonathan was rather puzzled as to why Miranda would be visiting him at this time of day, in the afternoon after their time together last night. He'd left last night when it was barely midnight since he had to work in the morning, so he had to admit he was surprised to see her stride in gracefully with a woven scarf of various neutral tones around her neck. "Miranda," he said, putting his pen down and smiling, folding his hands in front of him on his desk. However, looking closely at her face and her manner - she'd turned and closed the door and locked it - and he knew something was rather...off.

"Jonathan." She slowly walked over and sat down on the edge of his desk, body halfway turned in his direction. "I would love to know...what you want me to do so I can keep silent about your dirty little secrets."

 _She knows,_ his mind whispered. _But how?_ The "how" didn't matter to him; what was important was that Miranda _knew_ about him, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction just yet. "What secrets?" he asked smoothly.

She smiled softly. "Don't play with me, my dear doctor." Her voice was a low purr. "You know good and well what I'm speaking of. I know about your little drug dealing activities, as well as your little...activities with your patients, particularly one Amanda O'Brien. Let's say curiosity got the best of me." She winked; she purposefully meant to come into HIS office and what? Blackmail him?

Internally, he was burning with rage; how could she do this to him, after all these months together? However, Crane tried to keep himself calm and together. She would never deceive him and go to the police on him; she admitted it that she cared about him too much for that. But what did she want from him? He kept his eyes on her, which she took as her cue to continue. "Jonathan, I never go out with a man without finding out his dirty secrets. Whatever you're really doing, I want in as your personal, secret assistant if this...Ducard fellow doesn't want you having one."

"Thank you, but I work alone," Crane said, though hope swelled in him that he was getting his wish.

Miranda shook her head, one mouth twitching at the corner. "You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. So, why don't you admit the truth to me? First I want one thing from you that doesn't involve money, and in return you let me be your research assistant. I can manage chemicals very well besides machinery."

His body tingled with excitement at the possibility of a good working relationship in his basement at night when no one was around, but if anyone on staff found out, he would make damn sure they did _not_ breathe a word of this. "What if I propose you as my new assistant after I grant you what you need, then, hm?" He slowly stood up and walked around the table to stand in front of her. Her legs were slightly spread so he was in between her body; he was pleased to see she was wearing a skirt today. She was making this easy for him.

"Then this is what I want, before I return to work from lunch," Miranda said softly, running her hands up his chest until she latched her fingers on his tie. "Take me here on your office desk, or if we can make this faster..." She reached down between their bodies and groped him through his pants. Crane groaned when she massaged his bulge and slid down so her head was between his legs as she worked to get him out of his constriction. He couldn't help but whimper and hiss at the same time when her hot, moist mouth covered him.

"Meet me...tonight...eight PM...I work late..." He couldn't speak proper sentences at the present, thanks to her. His mind was too heavy to think; all he could dwell on was his girlfriend on her knees and sucking him off in his own office until he released, and announced her return to work. She kissed him on the mouth briefly - he tasted himself on her - before casually telling him she loved him and would meet him back here tonight. Jonathan watched her go and smirked, shaking his head. _Well, look forward to tonight then._

~o~

Today was her birthday. She'd officially turned nineteen, but she felt the same as ever. Talia's birthdays were always celebrated with bonfires and feasting, sometimes ending with blood and tears. But now she was here with Jonathan at their favorite restaurant for her birthday, and he'd been treating her like a princess tonight. Three months had gone by since he introduced her to Amanda O'Brien in the basement; the sight had been a shock at first, because this was a human being. Talia might be hard as stone, but she possessed enough of a heart for an innocent individual.

"This girl is no longer innocent, because her stepfather took it from her," Jonathan had sneered, behind that dreadful sack of burlap he called his "Scarecrow mask". Befitting, too, and given his upbringings. "As my father took mine all those years ago."

Talia remembered looking up at his face when he mentioned his father. "What happened?" was all she could ask, making him shake his head. The mask was still on his handsome face when he told her his story. The speaker which distorted his voice during the sessions was off, but his voice was still muffled.

"My mother died after I was born, so I never knew her. But my father struggled with raising an only child by himself. He used to run this asylum, respected and financially successful, but the same couldn't go for me. I wasn't as fortunate as he was. My childhood wasn't what you could call normal, in the hypocrites' book." He sat down behind his desk, looking at Miss O'Brien still and breathing softly on the table in the aftermath of the toxin's toll on her poor mind. "I was at the top of my class in school, but I never had friends, nor was I a part in any crowd. I wasn't exactly dressed sensibly as the other boys and girls, and I never had a girlfriend even when I got into high school and college. I used to be called particularly 'scarecrow' because of how I am build." He'd motioned down at his lean form for emphasis. "Nobody even bothered to question me about any of it, but how could they? It would have been my word against my father's.

"He would take me to work with him sometimes, though when I would even try to make contact with a patient, he would roar at the scum to keep away from his child," he'd stated with a humorless laugh. "Although at home was worse than what you might think; it went beyond simply not being much of a father and caring properly. His mind wasn't exactly as...sound. When he was a boy, his grandmother would beat the devil out of him. His parents weren't married; his father took off before he was born, and his mother left him with her mother while she ran off elsewhere and didn't bother contacting him ever again. His grandmother called him a filthy, sinful child, locking him in a dilapidated church full of crows in hopes of 'cleansing' him. Everything stopped before he graduated high school on full scholarship when she passed away from a stroke." Jonathan was leaning back into his chair when he paused there. "Which brings me to him and I. You'd think that a parent who suffered abuse would have believed their own children didn't deserve what they'd go through, but oh, how wrong I was.

"His grandmother instilled so much fear into him that he decided to examine it in hopes of understanding, using me, his own son, as his first and only test subject. It began when I was at least six or seven years old, happening one day when I walked home from school - I remember it all like it was yesterday." The smile he'd given her was chilling to the bone, but it did not work on her. "He was in an exuberant mood when he started going on about how he improved what he'd spent what felt like a lifetime on. He made me sit down in the chair in his basement lab, tied my wrists down and ordered me to be a good boy while he got out his syringe, filled with a clear yellow-colored fluid I didn't recognize. He told me it would last perhaps some moments before it would all be over, and I don't remember much other than feeling overwhelmed with nightmares, and it would continue to be so until I was thirteen when he died one day. Apparently, one of his patients had broken out and killed him when he didn't see it coming."

The whole time he spoke of his father, Talia sensed the familiar anger and loathing she had for her own. How could a man like that suffer intense physical, emotional and psychological abuse and have no balls to treat his own child different than that? His methods had been passed down to his son, though, and his son was no different than he. But Jonathan wasn't an evil man, and neither was his father. They had both been horrendously mistreated, never innocent to begin with and could have been more favorable in nature had things been different. "After your father died...?"

"I was taken in by his good friend and colleague, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, who took over the asylum in his stead. He raised me as his own son, got me into college, but a few years ago he resigned his position, and here I am now," Jonathan had answered with a little smile; he'd removed his mask when he finished speaking, so she knew his reaction. "However, all my life I had been devoid of female figures. I sometimes wondered what it would be like if my mother had lived, or if any women were even interested in me besides my medical position."

Talia knew exactly how he felt. Not a day went by that she didn't wish her mother had lived, so that she could have found her way to escape and bring her father to rescue them both and Bane, and that way they all would have been the united family. But no. Her mother was dead, and Bane was rejected by Ra's al Ghul because his "monstrous existence" was a reminder of the hell Melisande had been left to die in.

There was an old legend in the Middle East, from ancient times - if not centuries ago - that there was a mercenary who worked under a tyrannical warlord, who had a very beautiful daughter, the Princess Melisande. She was so lovely and exotic that men flocked her, wealthy and poor alike, but her jealous father kept her within the confides of the palace in order to "protect" her virtue. Which proved to be a lie, in the eyes and knowledge of the mercenary, Henri Ducard. He found his way to the chambers of the palace and beheld the sight of the most beautiful woman in his eyes. From then on, he sought to see her, and in time, they wed in secret, without the knowledge of her father, and therefore the new bride was with child.

The warlord discovered the secret union with the aid of one of his nefarious spies, and in a fury condemned his great servant to the Pit - a prison far off into the valley below the mountains, a hell on earth where men were thrown to suffer and die without ever hoping of being released. But before Ducard could be taken to be casted into the hell, his wife begged for his life and demanded he be sent away instead and never to return again. Her father agreed, and sent Ducard away, but his freedom did not come without a price, for his pregnant wife was forced to take his place in the Pit…by order of her own father.

Her child was born in that place - her and Henri Ducard's daughter, whom she named Talia. But as the young one grew, she had her hair kept to a certain style so she had the appearance of a boy. For the duration of nearly a decade underground with very little light, little Talia endured suffering and pain - and tragedy - alongside her mother, but under the protection of a fellow prisoner, who only went by the name of Bane. Bane had been born in the Pit as she had, but longer than her existence, and proved to be harder in body and spirit…but a wonderful friend who understood her agony. The prison doctor was kind to them, too, but even that did not ease the horrid conditions under which they'd lived. One day, he accidentally left the cell open, and in swarmed a handful of savage prisoners who had their predatory eyes on Melisande since day one of her arrival, finally getting their hands on her and dragging her away from her daughter, who tried to save her mother by killing one of them with her knife given to her by her dear friend. Bane tried to save the Princess, but to no extent and resulted in saving the child, for the mother's wishes…before she was brutally ravaged far away from her daughter's eyes.

Young Talia would never forget the day she heard her mother's final screams before Bane urged her that this was her one chance to get away from here.

She'd been the one to climb out of the Pit while Bane held off the impending creatures that mercilessly slaughtered her mother and satisfied their animalistic urges. Yes, that was what they were…creatures, no more than human. They didn't deserve another chance. She'd never been beyond these walls, but her mother always used to say that she'd wanted something better for her even though it was impossible. And she would never forget Bane, whom had always been there for her when the father she never knew was never there.

It had taken her three years to wander endlessly for her father, until she heard of a man who spoke for a "Ra's al Ghul", a man greatly feared by the criminal underworld. Turned out that Ra's al Ghul was really Henri Ducard, found a name for himself to bring himself high over those who brought him down to darkness. He'd scoffed at her, claiming he had no need for a child, until she brought up her mother's name and that of Bane, and the League returned to the Pit to exact terrible vengeance, and Bane and Talia had a new home, training as assassins.

The years would go by, but her father never accepted Bane. He saw only a monster, his very existence a reminder of the hell he'd left his wife to die in. Bane's living was Ra's' memory of his own failure to save his Melisande. And Talia would never love her father the way she loved her mother. _How could you when you never knew the man from birth?_

A few years after Bane's excommunication was Talia given her freedom. Her ideals, despite years of hardship, tragedy, and training, were slightly altered from her father's. In spite of it all, her mother's love kept her heart at its softest of levels. Even the advice of finding the one you would wish to spend your life with. _"The road to true love is barred by many obstacles…but never ends,"_ Melisande had intoned.

 _Thank you, Mother_ , Talia silently prayed to the heavens where her mother was now, smiling in her soft champagne as she across from Jonathan in the very restaurant on this night.

Jonathan looked _very_ handsome tonight in a light blue collared shirt that was buttoned down by three almost to showing much of his pale marble chest, and his tight black pants that flaunted his ass to her as he had led her inside like a gentleman upon arrival. Compared to him, she hoped she didn't look too casual for their date tonight, but Jonathan always said he loved her the way she was and didn't care how she dressed up. Her brown top had three-quarter-inch sleeves and a V-neck plunging to show a little plumpness but not to draw too much attention, and her sandblasted jeans snugged her thighs and calves, and around the ankles above her nude-colored pumps. Around her wrist was her serpentine cuff, and around her neck the new necklace he'd given her, which Jonathan had his icy blue eyes resting on. It was a chain of tiny charms, simple and sophisticated, two shiny and plain while the other three each set with glittering white diamonds, the rich golden hue on whole under flickering light given a luxurious fire. It was more precious to her than any other jewel in the world she'd ever received.

"It's very beautiful on you." His soft, husky voice broke through the loud music around them. "And I'd been worried it wasn't going to be much."

"I love this more than anything I own," she promised, putting her freed hand on his. "As much as I love you."

Before she could comprehend what was happening, there was a little black velvet box in front of her. She gasped, her heart suddenly racing with the emotions of exhilaration, anticipation, and terror all fusing together. _This is it…this is it…_

"Miranda Tate, I've known you for almost a year, but I feel like I've known you forever," Jonathan continued, his delicate fingers going to the lid, prepared to open it. "So if you'll have me…" The lid opened to reveal the most simple yet beautiful solitaire ring she'd ever seen. Not compared to the lavish ones she'd known all her life, it rested on a simple silver band, the winking diamond a perfect round cut.

"…I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I will," she whispered, the feel of the ring a perfect weight on her finger.

 **I have decided that Jonathan's comic origins involving his grandmother were a perfect twist for his father, eventually passing the evolution of fear onto his son for the future. I can never get over feeling sorry for Jonathan, as I can never get tired of Talia's backstory from "The Dark Knight Rises". :( Two amazing characters suffering so much in their lives, unable to help how they grow up.**

 **Melisande was also the name of Talia's mother in the comics.**


	6. Union

**I really hope you guys like this story so far. I wanted this to be fast-developing yet digging deep enough beneath the skin if you know what I mean. ;)**

Chapter Six

Union

He couldn't believe she said yes; he had expected the worse. Jonathan Crane was happier than he'd ever been in his life that he could think of.

He and Miranda had been together for a year, and everything had happened so fast in the early stages. They met one day and then three months later rushed into an affair of torrid passion which eventually blossomed into something more. To think that only a year past his third decade, he was getting married in a few months for the first time - but he was also quite anxious, if he said so himself.

Marriage was about compromise, and compromise was settling differences, but it didn't mean you always got your way. If there was ever one thing Jonathan would never agree on, it was compromise exactly. He never submitted to anyone but himself, cared about his own passions, and had a successful life ahead of himself, never once seeing a woman involved. Until _Miranda Tate_ walked into his life.

He did not compromise with Miranda, nor did he ask her to do any for him. Their lifestyles differed, having few quarrels but forgave right away, but she was his salvation. His life had gone the way he wanted it to since he became a man, but somehow since he met her, he had assumed something was missing. Him finally telling her about his family and allowing her to be his part-time assistant had transformed his days into more than he could ever desire.

Their relationship was made public knowledge, and to Jonathan's relief, those pitiful nurses stopped simpering at him, scowling behind their backs when they saw Miranda and the ring around her finger - he knew it was hers the moment he saw it twinkle, and it was less than he could afford for the sake of his research funds - but oh, he didn't miss that. He never allowed them to see his true emotions, and those red-lipped interns who came and went would all but crawl into his lap for attempting to acquire a higher position. He would send them crying to their feet for ever thinking they could take the easy way around.

Jonathan was not used to attention, but it wasn't like he and Miranda were anywhere near A-list famous as the long-missing Bruce Wayne or any Hollywood star in the country. Some people looked in their direction and smiled, but others simply didn't care and avoided them. The latter he was used to and gradually accepted. He noticed that Miranda was happier than he'd seen her, yet he also detected a certain air of...worry? That alone made him frown. _Worry for what?_ She'd told him how she lost her mother as a child, and how she and her father were never close, so she left her country for Gotham. He wasn't a fool to think there wasn't more than what she was telling him, but he wouldn't force her if she didn't want to reveal anymore to him.

They were getting married in five months, but the affair wasn't going to be expensive by any means. The ceremony was taking place in the botanical gardens, under a curtain of hanging wisteria, as she put it. Jonathan thought it perfect because he simply wanted to marry the woman he loved. But the last thing he needed was a call from Falcone offering his "congratulations".

"Honestly, you couldn't spare the trouble," he said with a roll of the eyes.

The crime lord snorted on the other line. _"Doc, is it really too much to offer my congratulations to you and the future Mrs. Crane?"_

Jonathan wanted nothing more than to hang up right now. He didn't have time for this. "I have a patient due in five minutes..."

 _"Gives me time to ask a favor of yours then."_

He groaned. _Another one. Why am I not surprised?_ It had been Ducard's idea to set him up with Carmine Falcone as their middle man in the first place, the one to help smuggle in the ingredients for his drug. But the crime boss knew next to nothing about what would happen in a matter of time, a specific date not yet set, but Jonathan knew soon enough. He had enough patience until then - and then he would show his bride-to-be a whole city screaming in endless horror. It would be a beautiful sight to behold.

~o~

Talia first met Evelyn Harmon - Evey for short - three months ago when she came for an internship at Wayne Enterprises, having an interest in medical science without intentions of becoming a doctor. Sandy-haired and green-eyed, she was a graduate of Harvard and instantly becoming an instant new friend. Talia actually liked her and could tell Evey liked her, too.

And most of all, what surprised her was the fact that Evey was the exact opposite of her in the sexuality department.

It wasn't that Talia was against same-sex relationships; so many considered it against God and nature, but to her it was the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be, not that _she_ would ever resort to that. The point was, a gay man or woman was always fun to hang around; she'd been around two or three in the past, and two such she recalled all too well were two men in the ranks of the League, and them caught with each other was punishable by execution and beheading by the Demon Head himself, his virtuous daughter witnessing the horrendous act herself. She bit her tongue, though, as the good daughter she was raised to be. This incident had occurred a year after her first coming into the League of Shadows; how young she had been then.

She had been at Wayne Enterprises for over a year and her life was taking a turn for the better now that she was getting married today, exactly five months later. At the Gotham Botanical Gardens, she and Jonathan met with a handful of guests underneath lush curtains of wisteria and columns of marble reminiscent of Moroccan themes. It took place just as the sun was setting, the windows opened to let in the breeze and showing the crescent moon already in the dark orange part of the sky. Evey helped her into her dress, which was breathtaking tulle hugging her body and then flaring out in a calla lily silhouette, the whole bodice beaded with beautiful Swarovski crystals. Her hair was sleek and loose about her shoulders, the charm necklace glittering faintly against her chest, and she carried a bouquet of red roses and white orchids against her body.

The ones available to witness were Lucius and Evey, because neither of them wanted a grand affair. Jonathan was very serious and tender as they exchanged their vows, and Talia felt like she was out of breath. At the end when the minister blessed them, they joined hands and sealed their pledge with a passionate kiss as the crescent moon began to shine brighter as the sky darkened.

 _A clouded dream on an earthly night_

 _Hangs upon the crescent moon_

 _A voiceless song in an ageless light_

 _Sings at the coming dawn_

 _Birds in flight are calling there_

 _Where the heart moves the stones_

 _There that my heart is longing for_

 _All for the love of you_

After going through a beautiful dinner with Evey and Lucius, the bridal couple returned to her apartment and retired to bed together. Thank God it was on a Friday night. Talia made no attempt to remove her necklace as it was one of the things tying her to her new husband before her. The heat of anticipation had been there right from the beginning of the ceremony - and before then - so Jonathan wasted no time in getting her out of her dress only to see that she was wearing a body-skimming sheer lace chemise with flattering floral details all over.

"You wear too many clothes," he growled, gently shoving her onto the bed where her wedding dress had been discarded, and got on top of her, wearing only his slacks, his shirt, jacket, tie, and shoes discarded to the foot of the bed, paying them no mind as he began the trail of kissing her neck and going to the clavicle of her breast, then taking in the hardened nipple beneath the fabric. She moaned when the familiar sensation shot from her breast to her stomach and went straight to her lower section, soon explored without hesitation by graceful fingers, propping and finding no underwear. Jonathan chuckled deeply in his throat as he found his surprise. "Or perhaps I was wrong this time."

"Isn't that what science is about?" Talia challenged him with his field of choice, as well as a matching smile. "Arriving at the wrong answers before you find the right ones?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

Soon they were fully naked and on the Tokyo-inspired bed, him sitting comfortably in the traditional lotus position while she straddled his lap, legs wrapped around his waist so her ankles crossed and pressed firmly against both of his cheeks. Tightening her inner muscles around him, she moaned loudly as she began to move on him, pleasure shooting heavily throughout her body to the point of her skin pores opening and releasing beads of sweat; she felt his own body do the same.

Talia found herself lying on her back, but in her haze of red and frenzied wedding night bliss, she didn't acknowledge anything else in the world other than her husband ravishing her with his cock inside her and his lips and teeth on her body, doing his very best to convince her to let go of anything negative just for tonight and let it be just the two of them in their first actual night together as husband and wife.

 **Wedded bliss. :) One of my favorite parts. But don't get too comfortable, ladies and gents.**

 **The song is "The Mystic's Dream" by Loreena McKennitt. More to come in later chapters. Take a listen on YouTube. :D**


	7. Favors

**Now we're getting into the events of "Begins". :D**

Chapter Seven

Favors

Jonathan smiled as he held his wife's hand in his as they laid together in bed after making love. It was their wedding night, and he felt like he had been bathing in the sun and relaxing like putty. He wanted to just melt away and not feel guilty about it. He wanted to enjoy every bit of it even if it melted or burned until there was nothing left of himself.

 _Married._

His hand which held hers...he smiled at the shiny silver band, dainty as his own fingers, delicately wrapped around _that_ finger, which rested next to the diamond-engraved one which now joined the solitaire he gave her only five months ago. He still couldn't comprehend the fact that this wonderful woman was finally his. And he never thought he would find the woman for him, never considered it possible - and he never thought he would have it in him to love another. He always thought the fairytales and literary works were full of impossibilities. Who ever would have thought it possible?

"Do you want to start a family sometime?" Miranda asked after awhile.

He didn't know how to respond. Jonathan felt his throat tighten as he thought back to his childhood and the possibility he would be no different than his own father. To him, as much as he wanted to say yes to her, his family was cursed with the absence of loving female figures, as well as distant, abusive fathers in his case. What if he ended up losing Miranda the way he lost his mother, and that way he would be the way his father had been to him? He didn't want to lose her, and he didn't want to have a child unwelcomed into the world as he had been.

As though reading his mind, Miranda's hand inside his tightened around so they were interlocking fingers. "Nothing will happen to me, and you're going to be a great father. Far more than yours." He smiled down at her, his confidence coming back to him.

~o~

 _Five months later..._

With his eyes, he glared at the bald man in the orange prison suit, who would eventually become his newest addition to Arkham Asylum. _Damn you Falcone. You've struck my nerve nearly the last time. Endangering our operation because you want your prized slaughterer back on the team. You have no idea that once he's in, he can't get out. But you'll find out soon enough._ He slowly leaned into the microphone, keeping his eye on the topnotch himself instead of the calm glower of his rival, Rachel Dawes. "In my opinion," he said calmly, keeping it together, "Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger himself as to others, and...prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation." He almost spat the last word when he saw the smug smile on the animal's face. He would love nothing better than to find out what he was really afraid of; he could in no way be that proud and fearless, simply hungry for a thrill of carving flesh into strips before slicing a tally mark onto his own body after his very latest victim.

So it was settled. Victor Zsasz would be going to Arkham, and Dr. Crane was excited for a new test subject. Carmine Falcone was a mere puppet who thought he could get off that easily, but once Ra's al Ghul - Ducard - came to Gotham in a matter of days, he wasn't going to be thoroughly pleased with any of this.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he strode from the courtroom, suitcase in hand, ready to get back to the hospital and then at the end of the day, go home to Miranda for a nice dinner. They'd gotten an apartment together near the bridge which was close for him to the Narrows, but slightly further from Wayne Enterprises. He had considered asking Miranda to quit her job so he could get her to work closely with him and so he could give her greater access to chemicals in the lab, perhaps find an excuse to fire Nina and put Miranda as his secretary. But Miranda wouldn't be too happy about that; she was better than simply setting up appointments. He only came up with that so they could be closer together by day than simply at home at night.

"Dr. Crane!" He whirled around and almost groaned when Miss Dawes came hurrying his way. She never knew when to give up, just never. "Do you REALLY believe a man who butchers people for the mob _doesn't_ belong in jail?"

Jonathan scoffed; she asked nearly the same question every time she confronted him after a case involving the sanity of a criminal. "Please, I thought you knew by now, Miss Dawes. I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, now wouldn't I?" He tried to pick his pace up and get away from her, but the persistent woman stopped in front of him and blocked his path. He wished he could let loose the visceral growl rumbling mildly within the tunnel of his throat at her statement.

"This is the third of Carmine Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane and moved into your asylum."

 _Blame Falcone for that._ "Well, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane," Jonathan sneered, turning away and knowing he caught her off - until she called him corrupt behind his back. He smirked to himself; she really shouldn't have done that. Calling an important figure corrupt and in a public location got you in deep every time.

He could feel Dawes' eyes burning into both his shoulders, but he gladly spotted from afar the man who was her boss. "Mr. Finch!" The DA turned in his direction when he heard his name called. He paled on the spot. "I think you should check with Miss _Dawes,_ " Crane drawled, "here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If _any_." Striding past Carl Finch without another look, he knew that she acted on her on brash instincts without further proof. But she was close enough that her end might meet her soon enough. If there was one way to evict her once and for all.

He needed to see Falcone for this. And while he did, it was time to call off the favors he'd be asked off, but that didn't count the shipments brought in from Asia.

It was still broad daylight when he drove deeper into downtown Gotham, deciding returning to the hospital could wait a little longer. They would do nothing to him since he was the administrator. As soon as he stepped in through the front door of Falcone's bar, two of his goons recognized him and nodded, gesturing him in the direction of the crime lord's office. He refused to knock, choosing to go right in and in time to see Falcone getting off the phone. He frowned disapprovingly. "Doctor, you just couldn't knock before you come in? Acting like you own this place when it's ME." He pointed to himself for emphasis. Jonathan shook his head as he closed the door behind him.

"No more favors, Carmine," he said, getting straight to the point and ignoring him altogether. "Someone is sniffing around, and you asking me to be Victor Zsasz's 'get out of jail free' card is wearing it up."

Falcone's face softened only to tighten again. "Hey," he returned, "I scratch your back, you scratch mine, Doc." A small smile formed. "And you couldn't have come 'unexpectedly' at a more perfect time, because my new favor requires bringing in the next shipments."

"And we are _paying_ you for that." His frustration was ebbing on the verge of eruption. He was beginning to think perhaps he should have waited until Ducard came and they would have confronted their middle man together.

"Maybe money isn't as interesting to me as favors," Falcone replied smugly.

This was when Jonathan finally allowed a small smile of his own to form on his face. Taking off his glasses, he let loose a slight sigh. Falcone thought he wasn't afraid of him - although he could see that he wasn't, but if only he knew what Jonathan could do behind his closed eyelids - and thought he could smuggle his way in and out just because he was oh-so powerful. "I'm well aware that you are not intimidated by _me_ , Mr. Falcone, but you know who I'm working for, and when he gets here -"

Something compared to dismay and worry appeared on the man's face. "He-he's coming to Gotham?" He just couldn't resist becoming a small child afraid of his misbehavior getting back to his parents.

"Yes, he is," Crane answered proudly, his lip curling. "And when he gets here, he's NOT gonna wanna hear about how you've endangered our operation just to get your thugs out of a little jail time." He almost rolled his eyes at the lowering of the head, an act that didn't work on him. Falcone wanted him to believe that he understood very much, but Crane wasn't a fool.

"Who's bothering you?"

"There's a girl at the DA's office."

Falcone nodded. "We'll buy her off then, then she'll leave you alone."

Jonathan shook his head, although the idea would have been nice. "Not this one."

"Oh, idealist, huh?" Falcone lowered his head and shook it while laughing at the "quick fix" he came up with. "Well, there's an answer to that, too."

Jonathan was more than ready to leave now that he was happy this was finished. If Dawes was out of the picture soon, his problems were solved. His hand was on the doorknob behind him, ready to go home to his wife now. "No need to explain."


	8. Masquerade

Chapter Eight

Masquerade

Bruce Wayne was back in town. It was all over the news. The Wayne heir had been missing for seven years, having been declared dead by Mr. Earle who was so hungry on taking the company public as its official owner. But now that Bruce Wayne had come back, Talia's instincts told her that the company's rightful ruler deserved his place on the throne.

The sooner he had walked into the Applied Sciences Department to be alongside her and Fox, Talia couldn't help but think about how classically handsome he was - but he wasn't her husband, and Jonathan was the one to occupy those kinds of thoughts. Her father knew exactly what he was doing in training the prince of Gotham; Wayne suffered a lot in losing his parents from what she gathered, understanding he wanted to save this city he so loved that his father had been a shining example in trying to help the desperate - only for him and his wife to be killed by one of them in front of their only child. Just like her mother being killed in front of her.

Wayne's eyes met hers when he came through the door of the downstairs division, when Talia showed him the way in and introduced him to Lucius. He'd been extremely polite to her, calling her lovely, but while she accepted his compliment, she couldn't allow herself to be fallen for his charms. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Wayne, but if you're thinking of asking me out, I'm married," she'd said, flashing her rings to him. He only smiled and nodded, not saying another word and proceeding to meeting Lucius Fox himself. The man who knew his father and would make him no exception.

Talia had been watching him closely for the next week, not really seeing him work, and mostly away from the site. She knew his decision to "work" was more than what the world knew, but she would have to not pry too much lest she wanted to be discovered by him. He'd been a brief member of the League and would find out he was being spied on eventually. Soon he would have everything he needed prepared for his own crusade of justice, but in the meantime, Talia wanted to concentrate on the event which came up a little over a week from the day Victor Zsasz was sent to Arkham Asylum much to the disdain of Rachel Dawes.

Cameras flashed in her face as she made her entrance with Jonathan to the Museum of Antiquities, where currently was the masquerade ball for Halloween, hosted by Wayne Enterprises once more. Jonathan wore a black suit - being one of the Halloween colors - paired with a crisp white shirt and blood-red tie, the top half of his face hidden by a half-mask of white and exquisite golden swirls. Talia dressed in the costume of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, and procreation. The bronze armor of the bottom piece was crafted cleverly and lovingly with seashells, dove feathers, laurel branches, and Celtic swirls, flowing panels of orchid-colored silk falling from the belt and swaying from the arms. Her long hair was pulled back and bumped slightly up in the back of her head, curled in a fashion that could be too good for words, with the curls in the front. Her mask was pure gold and the right side of the face fashioned in the style of a swan's wing, one of the birds of the goddess herself.

Jonathan was never heavy, as he'd said before, on luxury and finery, considering he'd been invited many times and surrounded by men in their finely pressed suits and their women in their brightest jewels. Tonight they were all in just those things, but add in the different colored half masks adorned with feathers and jewels, surrounded by majestic walls and pillars carved of gold, draped with opulent red velvet curtains, and all of it lit by the beautifully unique, one-tier chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, decorated with elegant finial and leaf designs and crystals that captured and brilliantly reflected the lights of the candle bulbs.

"Would the Princess of Passion…" Jonathan purred, still holding her hand, "care for a dance?"

"Need you ask?" she returned with a seductive smile, just as a haunting tune filled the room, and the lights began to dim. A woman's voice filled the air from somewhere unseen to the eye, but all she could comprehend was the god himself in front of her, taking the traditional dance position with her and slowly gracing to the out-of-this-world melody playing, picking up speed when the tune itself picked up, and the nerves raced with excitement as a song played that reminded her very much of themselves.

 _And so it's there that my homage's due_

 _Clutch-ed by the still of the night_

 _Now I feel, feel you move_

 _And every breath, breath is full_

 _So it's there my homage's due_

 _Clutch-ed by the still of the night_

 _Even the distance feels so near_

 _All for the love of you_

Tonight was the night of magic. Magic, love, and everything associated with the other world. Talia couldn't prescribe any better words for it. She and Jonathan had been married for five months, and the spark was still there. And to think that having a child in the near future was even possible. The music then switched to a slower ballad - the slow couples' dance. Sighing in content, Talia settled on leaning her head against his chest, savoring the moment…until it was ruined when her attention was forced to be driven elsewhere.

There, standing off and away from the view of everyone else - save for herself - and amid the shadows but for her to see in the light…was _her father_ , the mysterious but powerful Ra's al Ghul.

The smile he gave her that was meant to be menacing but polite at the same time was frightening all the same.

"Miranda?"

"Hmm?" She drew back to look her husband in the eyes.

"I asked if you felt like leaving for some...air." There was a naughty twinkle she did not mistake once, given she'd seen it numerous times before. "Because Miss Dawes might see us, given she's an old friend of Wayne's from what I gather." Talia groaned to herself; she did not, in any shape or form, want to see Rachel Dawes - the DA's little bitch - tonight. Not even to hear her complaints about Victor Zsasz. She was about to answer yes when the worst thing ever heard unimagineable sounded in her ears.

An alarm had been set off.

Cries were overheard throughout the ballroom.

Talia whirled around with Jonathan to see the source of the scream. It was at the far end to her right, which was the exhibit of the oldest and most mystical of artifacts, and she shoved her way because her own curiosity got the best of her, even more when she heard the shriek of "The box is _gone_!" Only by the time she was in the front of the gathering crowd did she see, with Jonathan behind her, the empty glass box on the pedestal.

The Lament Configuration was gone.

~o~

"Well, now, how about that?" Evey said one afternoon on their lunch break. The story was in the paper about the missing puzzle box by Lemarchand, detailing no evidence of foul play or an alarm triggered. It was as though it _magically_ disappeared. It was unlike her father to pull a stunt like that - but Ra's al Ghul and his ninjas always surprised.

But that wasn't the main headline of the papers.

"'Bat Serves Up Crime Boss'," Talia read aloud the paper, knowing Jonathan's rage when he would find this if he hadn't already. Carmine Falcone had been captured and hung up on a spotlight at a scene in the Narrows, around the time a shipment of drugs came in, and all of his men rallied up by the police after being disarmed by a "giant bat". The mob boss himself was currently in police custody, awaiting trial, as well as the drugs, prints and cargo manifest handed in to the DA's office. Which meant not only the beginning of the end of Falcone's reign in Gotham...

...Jonathan and everything they'd come to love together was in immediate danger. And an intrusion to her father's plans.

And now that he had the puzzle box in his possession, what was he planning to do with it, now that she was sure he would make use of it after Gotham was destroyed?


	9. Masks

Chapter Nine

Masks

Talia didn't feel like cooking tonight, instead choosing to order Chinese for both her and Jonathan. The idea of her father now possessing Lemarchand's box in his grasp nauseated her more than she had been lately, knowing he was now in Gotham. And he'd seen her with Jonathan at the ball, the man of his employment. He would find a way to contact her eventually. She was sure of it.

Jonathan wasn't home yet, and she'd only just hung up the phone after ordering take-out that way. But no sooner did she when the phone rung again. "Yes?" she said when she pressed the talk button. She froze, her heart and blood freezing - whole body in a matter of time - at the sound of the voice calling _her and Jonathan's_ home.

 _"Well, it's been such a long time, Talia."_

"Father." She gritted her teeth, keeping it together. "What do you want?" Asking how he got the number would be a foolish error.

He chuckled. _"Is that any way to speak to your father?" A father I have had no contact with in almost two years._

"We have made no contact for two years," Talia said coldly. "But that doesn't mean I'm not aware of what you've been up to. But are you expecting me to stop you myself when you probably have a new face against you now?" It didn't surprise her that it was obvious the "Batman" was Bruce Wayne - with all his times of asking favors from Fox with the Tumbler and the other unused army gadgets - but it surprised her he would rebel against the truth of the League of Shadows' purpose. She never thought that he would resist temptation the way he did, but she hoped there would be hope now that her father was onward to destroying the city on a massive scale no one would see coming. Would Wayne piece it together in time?

 _"Not likely, daughter,"_ Ra's answered, _"and neither will your...husband, once the deal is finished. But once we have destroyed the city, I would love to speak with him about his choice of woman since he doesn't know who he is dealing with."_

Talia sucked in a breath. "You wouldn't dare lift a finger to hurt Jonathan, the man you need in your plans." But deep down, she knew he surely would.

 _"Who says I need him?"_ Ra's asked matter-of-factly. _"He's been nothing more than a mere stepping stone. But believe me, I won't now. But as soon as we finished, he'll receive his...reward for all his hard work. But don't be expecting me to include you, the failure you are who chose to abandon your greater path for a place amongst these doomed excuses of existence."_ There was the sound of the line being disconnected, leaving her in a hollowed shell which cracked as soon as she heard the front door open. Jonathan was home. His face was in a firm scowl; he hadn't had a good day.

"Should I ask?" she asked softly when she took his jacket from him, leaving him in his shirt and vest. He sighed and loosened his tie, shaking his head.

"That uptight bitch," he spat, making her laugh a little. "I'd have thought that on that one night, Falcone's thugs would have gotten her out of the picture. But how could she have escaped?" He sat down at the table in the kitchen. "The Bat Man is my best solution. He's fascinating; I wonder how he could acquire enough resources to sneak past the law and take matters into his own hands, hand Falcone in to the authorities?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I wonder who his real face is, but I guarantee he's suffered enough to do this. Everyone has a mask to hide behind. But then again, so do I," he told her, looking up when Talia began to massage his shoulders to get him to relax. He moaned and leaned back against her. Hearing those sounds made her want to try another tactic to get him to enjoy the rest of his day.

But remembering his words about how everyone had a mask to hide behind, she couldn't have agreed more. His life was in danger, but her own cowardly self did not have enough strength to tell her husband he was in danger just by being married to her. _You_ have _to,_ her mind urged. _If you want to protect him. The longer you let the secret live, the more it would tear you apart on the inside until there is nothing left._

"As do I," she said at last.

He looked up at her, brows furrowed. "Miranda, what are you saying?"

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, and you won't forgive me for keeping this from you," she told him, "but you deserve to know everything. I was honest in telling you my mother died and how my father and I don't get along...but there's more than that."

He pulled free from her hands and turned his whole body around, his eyes still studying her warily. "Go on." He was in full doctor mode, ready to learn about something new that his patient hadn't told him before.

"My real name is Talia."

~o~

He had thought he knew his wife by now, but he always knew, deep down, that she had more secrets to hide. And he was proven right when she came clean to him two nights ago - and spilled the beans that Miranda was really Talia al Ghul, daughter of his employer _Ra's al Ghul._ He ought to feel betrayed, like he didn't know her - or rather, never knew her to begin with - but it wasn't like he found out without her telling him any longer. She had kept her true self hidden from him all this time, but he did in the beginning, too. He shouldn't be all that angry with her.

But it made sense the fact that he was in fact _married_ to the daughter of his employer, an immensely powerful man feared by the criminal underworld. He wasn't a scared little boy anymore, but that didn't mean he didn't fear for his own life.

Miranda - no, Talia - wanted to protect him from her father, but now that he knew about them, things were more complicated than ever. After al Ghul was finished with Gotham, who knew what he would do to Jonathan. But now Jonathan was more concerned for his wife instead of his own life. He was more than willing to trade his own life for Talia's safety.

He was a very busy man and hated being called away from the hospital, even court cases, but it was a price to pay when you're administrator. Crane "smiled" at the sight of his longtime colleague, Joan Leland, who had transferred from Arkham to GCPD last year. "Dr. Crane, thanks for coming."

"Not at all," he answered. "So, he cut his wrists?" It was unlikely for a perfectly sane man like Carmine Falcone to drastically slice his wrists in a suicide attempt, unless he really wanted to avoid jail time that he naïvely thought he could get off easy like his goons before him - or unless he had an ulterior motive, because why else would he want to _speak_ to Dr. Jonathan Crane personally?

Leland nodded. "Probably looking for the insanity plea." She opened the door for him and let him go inside. He scowled at the man in blue at the table, surrounded by white and going on about how he couldn't take anymore of the walls closing in, and how the food was wretched. Jonathan sighed and sat down at the table, sitting up straight and folding his hands across his lap.

"What do you want?" he asked impatiently. He had enough problems on his hands as it was.

"I want to know..." Falcone's mouth twitched into a sneaky smile. "...how you're going to convince me to keep my mouth shut."

"About _what?_ " Jonathan sneered. "You don't know _anything_." Yet he knew Carmine had somehow done digging into him, but it had to have been some time ago before he was locked behind bars; or unless a cop working for him on the inside had done it for him.

"I know you don't want the cops taking a closer look at the drugs they seized. And I _know_..." His voice lowered, bordering on entrapment. "...about your little experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse. See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." Jonathan remembered Talia saying those words so long ago to him, but that was different compared to now. "Or the fact you're married to the daughter of the man you are working with, and I doubt Daddy likes it very much," Falcone drawled, snapping his temper, but Jonathan held himself together. It was a good thing he brought his toxin and mask in his suitcase; somehow he knew it would come to this, so that was why he prepared.

"Now, I've been bringing your stuff in for months, so whatever your boss is planning, it's big - and I want in."

 _Blackmail! You bastard!_ But knowing Ra's al Ghul who never let in men like Falcone - scumbags who thought they could swindle to get what they wanted - Crane leaned forward and said, "Well, I already know what he'll say: that we should kill you."

But Falcone wasn't intimidated by him, as ever, and not even at the idea that Ra's al Ghul could come in undetected and do away with him. "Oh, not even he can get me in here in my own town, Doctor."

Well, then, it seemed he would have to do this his way after all. Jonathan reached up to take his glasses off and exhaled softly. "Would you like to see my mask?" He couldn't resist cracking a grin at the baffled look on the crime boss's face as he reached over to unlock his suitcase. "I use it in my experiments." Once he had his hands on his mask and activated the breather which made him immune to his creation, he carefully pulled it out. "Now, I'm probably not very frightening to a guy like you...but these crazies can't stand it." To have his beloved burlap sack over his face rendered him slipping back into the pool of pleasure and power combined together in sync.

"So when did the nut take over the nuthouse?" Falcone demanded, knowing he'd made a mistake in joining forces with what he would call a "madman" along with everyone who opposed him. Jonathan burst out giggling behind his mask when he pressed the button inside his opened suitcase so the toxin inside burst out and into Falcone's face. His former partner screamed when his eyes fell back onto his masked visage. Scarecrow leered at him as he stood up and leaned forward.

 _"They scream, and they cry - much as you're doing NOW!"_

~o~

"Oh, Jonathan - yes! Right there!"

It had been awhile since it was them both, given how sick she'd been the last few days. It had also been a month or over since she last had her previous menstruation, but it was clear to her even though she had yet to tell Jonathan. But right now she wanted to be with her husband tonight and catching up for "lost times". And Jonathan was in a, should you say, better mood than before. "Falcone will be transferred to Arkham," he'd told her when he came home with a big grin on his beautiful face, making her heart lift. "He knows everything, but he won't tell anyone because I gave him his 'medicine'."

Talia was happy that he'd given the man his comeuppance, but that meant putting himself in even greater trouble with the troublesome Rachel Dawes. If Talia ever met her, she would give that woman her own brand of "inner Crane". As much as she shared her enthusiasm for justice, she was the thorn in Jonathan's side.

She moaned when her orgasm erupted, her core throbbing and tingling with pleasure with Jonathan as he reached his end and laid on top of her afterwards, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "Mmm," he murmured as he inhaled her skin, purring like a cat when she brought her hands up over his back, gently scratching her nails into the smooth surface not to reignite his sex drive but to pleasure him more in the aftermath. She saw this as her chance to tell him now.

"I figured out why I've been sick these last few days."

"Hmm?" He slowly lifted his head and looked up at her with half-hooded eyes.

"We're going to have a baby."

His lids flapped up and his pupils dilated. "Oh, baby, it's...!" His words seemed to fail him, but he didn't need to explain. He rested his head back on her chest and seemed to weep with joy in spite of himself. To learn that he was going to be a father on the same day that he drove Carmine Falcone insane enough to lock him up to protect them both was more than enough peace he could ever have asked for.

But then his phone rang. Jonathan groaned and got out of bed to answer. "Oh, Talia, I have to go. I have some business in the Narrows to dispose of." He turned back to her and gave a little half-smile. "Before anyone catches on. With the Bat Man running around now."

~o~

He had two of his orderlies at Arkham whom he could rely on the most come and help him get rid of the stuffed rabbits that the bags of the flower compounds arrived in. No one lived in this rathole anymore, but it had been suitable enough to store what he had in here; now he had no choice but to burn every last bit of it so no one traced it to him. He didn't care that there were people around them; this had to be done. "Get rid of all traces," he ordered.

And then his eyes fell to the window which was opened and letting in rain. Gotham was suffering from rainstorms tonight, but the water was the least of Jonathan's worries. _Someone is here - or_ was _here._ He went over to inspect, suitcase still in his hand, while his men got to work with the gasoline all over the area.

And then he heard a noise behind him, the sound of glass breaking. Whipping his head around, Jonathan saw one man missing. _Someone IS here._ He was certain it was the _Bat Man_ , and if it was, he would be ready for him. He marched over to the corner of shadows so the wanted vigilante wouldn't see him coming. He hastily opened his suitcase and pulled out Scarecrow's mask, ready to face the Bat Man now that his second and last goon had taken the last blow for him.

The masked man himself was all in black as the papers described, pointy-eared and muscled heavily - or should he say, the armor was muscled? He didn't care which one, because he flicked his arm out and gave the Bat a dose of his own fear...whatever it was that made him afraid enough to drive him down the road of vigilantism.


	10. Exposure

**Now things are getting hotter, and it should be obvious what's next in store for our doctor. ;)**

Chapter Ten

Exposure

Two days ago when Lucius came up to her that morning with the announcement of creating an "antidote"; he'd already been at work, but he asked her to fill in for him since he had more work to do, and given he was an engineer, not a chemist. He'd trusted Talia to do the deed for him.

The blood sample he'd given her, in a small plastic tube taken via syringe, belonged to none other than Bruce Wayne. His butler had told Fox that "Master Wayne was poisoned and set on fire last night", but didn't give everything away. His young master was rambling about poison and some incoherent nonsense until finally he was sedated until further notice of an antidote synthesized. While examining the sample under a microscope in less than moments, she recognized the antigens of Jonathan's fear toxin. She inwardly cursed him, but then again, he had no choice because _Batman_ was onto him - and since the Bat met up with Scarecrow, he had to know that the man who gassed him was the head doctor of Arkham Asylum.

 _Jonathan...once the Batman grabs anything he can as soon as he recovers, he'll have everything Jonathan has taken away from him - even from ME._ If she didn't know any better, she would end up adding Bruce Wayne - Batman - right next to hating her father, both of them for threatening to take everything she loved away from her. But while Batman would have Jonathan locked up behind bars and stripped of his position and title, what would her father do to him?

It brought back to mind the still-"missing" Lament Configuration, which Ra's had not mentioned verbally, but Talia knew it, and it enflamed her heart with a terror burning worse than the pits of hell.

It was barely ten in the morning by the time Bruce awoke, from what Lucius told her. He'd returned from Wayne Manor to inform her they were going to make more of the antidote for Wayne in case the incident happened again. Lucky for him, she'd already made a few batches, but more was to come and she knew it. "I'll be going out to Wayne Manor, Lucius," she announced as she grabbed her coat with the case of syringes of the vaccination. She planned on making the trip herself, save Lucius the trouble. It also dawned on her she could use the formula to give to Jonathan so he could manufacture for himself.

"Talia - or should I say, Miranda, in case anyone hears me."

She whirled around and glared at the sight of her father in black approaching her. Sharp as ever, powerful and intimidating, Ra's al Ghul smiled pleasantly down at her, but there was no warmth in either his smile or his eyes. He was cold as ice. "What brings you here to my working life in broad daylight, Father?"

"The simple fact that a mere less than three days ago, a certain former pupil of mine has suffered a bit of an overload from our good doctor but will regain his activity soon enough," her father answered smoothly. Then his eyes fell to the case in both her hands, smile slowly fading. "I see you've been kept busy yourself."

"Because I'm giving more of the antidote to Bruce. And for Jonathan to give his experiments their sanity back."

Ra's scowled. "It's a pity. I had come here to offer my daughter and only heir a proposition," he said.

Talia raised both her eyebrows. "You call me a disgrace and think you can sway me over with a 'proposition'? I thought we were both clear on this. And I still haven't forgiven you for what you did to Bane. If you think you can take two men -" Jonathan included. "- out of my life, you're sorely mistaken."

Ra's' face fell; he didn't erupt with rage like he was known to do, but his voice softened was even more frightening than that, as Jonathan was known to do to other faces who didn't respect him. "I don't intend to. You're my daughter, so that makes us family. I will leave you alone and return to my business, but I wish for you to know this. All families suffer through ups and downs, but in the end when everyone abandons a member, they have their flesh and blood to forgive and forget. I guarantee you will do the same in the near future once this great city - once so tall and proud now sunken to the lowest depths of the ocean - is in ruins, so there is no going back. Once the goal is accomplished, you will return to your rightful place at my side so that when my time is up, you are the leader of the League of Shadows."

He didn't mention Jonathan, but that didn't mean he wasn't going back on his word. Talia merely stuck her chin up at him and smiled calmly, keeping her emotions on the outside in check. "You're wrong," she whispered, leaving it at that and unlocking her car to slip inside. Her father simply stood by and watched her calmly, though he was the exact opposite on the inside. She felt so nauseated to her stomach she tried to ignore it as she started the engine to bring to Wayne Manor for Batman against Scarecrow's fear toxin.

~o~

He had to leave a message at home to Talia, notifying her he would be late for dinner because that infuriating assistant district attorney had called him to let him know she learned of his permission from the judge in moving Carmine Falcone to Arkham Asylum just days before his trial. Somehow, he had the suspicion she would be late getting home herself. Either way, tonight was going to be an exception for them both.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in exasperation; Dawes was on his nerves for the last time. Falcone should have had his goons at least break into her home and kill her off than besides on the street on her way home from work, that way the Bat wouldn't have interfered. Falcone was such an idiot, and an even bigger idiot to think he could blackmail Crane. Now it got him in an orange jumpsuit and imprisoned within his own shattered mind.

"Miss Dawes," he said, putting his glasses back on his eyes, ignoring her frozen glare. "This is _most_ irregular; I have nothing further to add to the report I filed with the judge. My wife is expecting me for dinner, so you'll have to explain it to her -"

"Too bad," she stated, setting his insides off, "because I have questions about your report."

"Such as?" If there was a way he could get her off his tail once and for all, now that she was his problem since his "partner" was not _his_ problem anymore.

Dawes launched into it. "Isn't it _convenient_ for a fifty-two-year-old man who has NO history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown _JUST_ when he's about to be indicted?"

Jonathan snorted. "Well, as you can see for yourself, there is nothing _convenient_ ," he said sarcastically, "about his symptoms." Falcone laid there in previously mentioned jumpsuit, strapped down and writhing, wide-eyed and muttering the same word over and over: _scarecrow._ Rachel furrowed her brows as she took another look at him and questioned him.

"Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor, usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case: a scarecrow." In Jung's theories, the scarecrow was the embodiment of fear and all negative emotions; in his younger days, Jonathan had expanded the knowledge of the scarecrow persona based on this character in psychology after all his years of believing it simply instilling fear into the person's psyche.

"He's drugged." She figured it out, but she didn't yet know the actual cause. Jonathan was getting closer to losing control now.

"Psychopharmacology is my primary field; I'm a strong advocate. Outside, Falcone was a giant, but in here...only the mind can grant you power. I respect the mind's power over the body. It's why I do what I do."

"And _I_ do what _I_ do," she returned with her nose scrunching up as though smelling something filthy, "to keep thugs like FALCONE behind _bars_ and _not_ therapy." She began to walk away, and Jonathan glared at her back with his hands behind his own and began to follow her to the elevator while she was still speaking. "I want my own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone, including blood work so we can find out EXACTLY what you put him on," she said through gritted teeth as she pushed the elevator button for downstairs.

Jonathan nodded. "First thing tomorrow then." Falcone had to have some traces of the poison left in his blood, so he had to stall some time to try and clean that away; Talia would understand that once he explained as soon as he got home...

"Tonight." Dawes' face was smug. "I already paged Dr. Lehman at County General."

He had his keys out from his pocket and put one into the lock beneath _BASEMENT_. "As you wish." _Now's the time after all; she deserves some medicine to clear her head after all. There is no other way out other than the hard way after all..._

~o~

By the time Talia was finished with her side of the batch of the antidote, the memory of her father's words still echoed in her mind, but she did her best to shove them all down. She would NOT let him get under her skin. She had the terrible feeling that Bruce might not figure it out in time and stop him, but she sensed Ra's would reveal himself eventually.

She looked up when she saw Fox clearing up, and she felt her heart fall. She'd seen Earle come in, but he didn't even come to her. Whatever he'd told Lucius, it had done a number on her boss. "Lucius, what did he say to you?"

He shook his head. "I've been fired, Miranda."

Talia felt like she would explode. "What for?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "Did he find out WHAT we were doing?!" She almost raised her voice before she lowered it the best she could. Her boss and dear friend shook his head again; after so many years of working for Wayne Enterprises, he was released by the man they detested and who Bruce Wayne must as well. And speaking of which, he had a birthday party they'd been invited to - the first welcoming birthday he would have in seven years of absence - but Talia wasn't going, claiming she had business to take care of.

"No, but he came to tell me that an item of one of Wayne Enterprises' cargo ships was attacked and abandoned - a microwave emitter - was, shall we say, misplaced."

"Misplaced." Talia repeated the word with absolute disgust. The _League's doing. They need something powerful enough to vaporize the..._ water in the mains of Gotham _._ Jonathan's toxin in the city's water would be dispersed into the air, starting in the Narrows, and then spreading throughout all of Gotham...and then its people would kill each other out of their own worst fears. "And he fired you for questioning."

"I asked him if it was illegal and sarcastically asked if I got the memo that I lost my job," Lucius answered. She wanted nothing more than to take one of her Chinese daggers at home and cut his privates and feed them to the pirhanas. _Wouldn't that be a sight?_ "Now I have to fill in a report and then get the hell out of here, unless I wanna be thrown out by security." He laughed with no humor before leaving her alone. Now that she was alone, Talia's nerves and blood were all on fire worse than Hades now. She had to get back to work, but first she had to call her husband and tell him she would end up working later than intended; more of the antidote for the police to give to anyone exposed to Jonathan's toxin.

However, when the phone was picked up, the speaker was _not_ her husband. _"Mrs. Crane?"_

"Sergeant Gordon." One of the last good cops of the city. What was he doing with Jonathan's mobile? "Is my husband there?"

His answer was grim. _"I'm actually afraid not. You see..."_ He sighed, and her heart was frozen as though cryogenically. _"...Dr. Crane has been arrested."_

"What?! What for?" Oh, Gods, she knew exactly what for. The Batman had gotten him and found out what he was up to, but did he mention her by any chance?

 _"We uncovered some nasty activity in the basement of his own asylum, dumping some toxin into the water mains; by now the entire water supply is laced with it. He even poisoned Rachel Dawes who got too close, but the Batman rescued her and took her away to give her an antidote, I think. I still don't know about him, but I think he can help us if Commissioner Loeb doesn't think so."_

 _He has complete faith in the Batman - but damn him for saving that dreadful woman! And damn the corrupt force for taking my husband from me!_ Talia wanted to hurl her phone into the ground and shatter it, but instead she found herself asking, "What will happen to Jonathan now?"

~o~

 _"What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get your toxin into the air?"_

 _"Scarecrow...Scarecrow..."_

 _"WHO WERE YOU WORKING FOR, CRANE?"_

 _"Oh, it's too late. You can't stop it now..."_

The conversation with James Gordon played over in his head about how these fools weren't going to win; he might be locked up in his own asylum now, but they would never know the main ringleader behind this. But even that didn't relieve his now-broken mind of the burden at hand - and in his heart. _Talia...I'm so sorry._

He'd tried to protect them both, thought he could dispose of the meddlesome assistant DA - for all he knew, she was dead by now from facing her worst fears. To hear her scream and writhe in panic at the sight of his masked face was like having an orgasm with his wife - until the Bat Man rendered all his men useless and unconscious before tearing off his mask and dousing his face with his own fear toxin...and that cowled face became that of a monstrous bat only existing in nightmares. One he hadn't had since he was a little boy.

He'd left him there for the police to find him and take him upstairs, binding him in the straightjacket that belonged to one of his crazies. Jonathan raged internally, cursing them all - and above all, the Bat - for taking EVERYTHING away from him: his career...his life's work...his title...his wife and unborn child...

That last one hurt as much as his wounded pride.

However, the sight and feel of his beloved burlap mask tossed onto his lap brought his eyes - his glasses misplaced somehow, but he could still see - back to the door where two SWAT men in black stood with their rifles trained on him. One cracked a grin as he said the very words.

"Time to play."

 **Awww, poor Jonathan, losing everything he loves...but the worst is to come.**


	11. Death

**Without giving any spoilers away: warning of graphic, grisly violence even if it's brief.**

Chapter Eleven

Death

Gotham's time had come. She'd innoculated herself before leaving Wayne Enterprises late, and in perfect time to see Lucius returning much to her surprise. "Lucius, I thought your clearance was -" she started, pulling her coat together around her tightly.

"Mr. Wayne insisted that I come back and begin more of the antidote, Miranda," he said. "Mentioned how someone was going to disperse the toxin using the water supply and our missing microwave emitter."

 _Father...and Jonathan._ Talia made the habit of gritting her teeth again. "And I had just gotten the call that my husband has been arrested, that he was the one who was behind the pouring of this poison in the mains." Word would have gotten out eventually that the well-respected Dr. Jonathan Crane was the "master" behind the contamination of Gotham City's water supply. All of this meant that their child who was barely weeks along would grow up without its father, and the end of everything they were supposed to build together. But this was her chance to at least try and help this mess. She was powerless to stop her father from carrying out his plans without running into the Batman, risking exposure of them both, but giving more antidote was the best she could do.

She was walking past her boss only to be stopped by his hand on her arm, turning her back around to face him. His face was deviod of anything but baffle and sympathy. "Wait, your _husband_ was behind this? How do you know this?"

"Sergeant Gordon told me not too long ago," she answered, furiously tearing her arm from him. "The Batman came close onto him and turned him in, then GCPD took a look at the water supply in Arkham, finding it all in the whole supply of the city. Now I have to go there, but I have more than enough of a batch for you as a start." She gave him a little smile but let it slip as soon as she turned away from him and started for her car, getting in without another look back.

However, the news she was greeted with on the radio almost forced her to stop the car.

 _"- inmates of Arkham now roaming the streets of the Narrows -"_

"Oh, my God," Talia whispered, her hands tightening around the wheel so her knuckles turned white. She almost threw her head forward enough to honk the horn until she heard the next bit:

 _"- the bridges between the Narrows and main Gotham are being raised within a few minutes -" Damn it, and Jonathan is still on that island! If the inmates of Arkham are roaming free, then HE has to be among them!_ Her father had arranged for the prisoners of the asylum to be let loose as part of the plan, why else? To add further to the fears of the innocent as well as for the insane to go beyond their own impulses and attack out of paranoia. And if Jonathan hadn't been exposed already - he'd already lost his job and life, his sanity the last straw of it all - she had to give him his dose before it was too late...but the bridges were already being raised.

At that moment, she hated everything and everyone that was happening tonight.

~o~

Riding on the back of that horse and screaming in pain as the surge of the Taser shot coursed through his face - _damn the bitch!_ \- had been utterly humiliating and painful, bruising him worse than being strapped in the straightjacket in his own nuthouse. Jonathan was having the worst night of his life when he had been freed only so many moments ago and relishing it all despite cracking in his mind that had actually been shattered long ago by his father's similar experiments on him.

He'd found the horse when he knocked out a strolling policeman and took it, galloping through the streets in the Narrows like its king - and that was what he was: the king of fear. Or should he say, _Master_ of Fear. _The Lord of Despair...the GOD of Terror. All of you, cower before me!_ He wanted to scream in howling joy and shout it in the streets, but it had been ruined by Dawes when he thought she'd have died from the overdose. _It seems the Bat IS as resourceful as they say. I underestimated him._

Now he was on his back and thrown into a pile of garbage. _Typical and cliché...but safer than the hard ground. I've had enough bruises to last a night._ He lay there for awhile, his whole body numb and jolting in the nerves. His face was burning and tingling; he furiously tore his mask off and held it in his hand, over his heart and staring upwards at the dark, smoke-filled sky, once again thinking back to how his life had been going in the right direction only to fail in the end. Al Ghul and the Bat Man had been the cause of it; he did not regret his experiments in fear, nor did he regret meeting and falling in love with his boss's daughter...but he _did_ regret agreeing to the deal with her father, had he known sooner who they really were.

 _You can't hate Talia for it. She loves you, and you love her. How could you regret the best thing that ever happened to you?_

He snarled as he sat up. He might have fallen, but that didn't mean he was giving up now. He was wanted, so there was no way he could go back to Talia anytime soon; it was wholly set in that their child would never know its father the way it would know its mother. It would be told its father was a criminal and a fearsome nightmare, hardening his heart at once. This was what he would do now: he would lay low for now, find someplace safe to try and develop his toxin and come back with larger amounts for his research. It seemed drug trafficking was the only solution he had given he couldn't get back to the hospital without getting locked back up.

Jonathan stood and stretched himself; his bones popped slightly, loud enough to hear a crack. But it was the slightly positive form of crack; he was gathering enough energy to move on and find a place to stay.

And he couldn't believe his luck, after moving a few doors down the alleyway since it was the best option for now to avoid getting caught - also cliché - and found an opened door. Storage to sleep was also the best option for now.

"Staying here does not come without a price, sir."

He looked up and glared at whoever was here, but saw no one in particular. "Who's there?" _Show yourself!_

Out stepped what looked like an old fool in bum's clothing, but the hood was over his face so Jonathan could not see. He took a few steps forward, his finger moving for the trigger of his reclaimed fear toxin can and prepared to strike once he was feet away. "This is my room, and you cannot stay here unless you have a price."

Jonathan frowned, keeping his hand raised. "If you are asking for money, good man," he said sarcastically, "I don't have any. What could I possibly offer you that I don't have? My _body_?" He cringed internally if that was the case, using his body as a selling point for something temporarily. He considered his own body a sacred temple of self-consciousness. He wouldn't have it up for prostitution by any means over any situation.

The mysterious man chuckled - the sound a rumbling, inhuman sound which made his heart begin to hammer - and shook his head. "No, boy. But I offer you something else you can give." He'd had his hands in his pockets and pulled one out...holding out a familiar multidimensional, gold-and-black cube.

"Your _soul_."

"My soul," Jonathan stated, laughing and lowering his hand, running his other through his hair at the mockery of a situation. "What do you take me for, a fool like you? Why would I want to solve the puzzle and 'open the gates of hell'? It's a _likely_ and _foolhardly_ story. I have just been through enough for one night, losing my life and my family because I agreed to a deal I never should have, only to come and be greeted with the price of solving a puzzle in exchange for a place to sleep!" He scoffed and turned to open the door again. "I'm sorry I wasted your time then. I'll find another place." But when he tried to pushed the door handle inside and push against the door, it wouldn't budge. It seemed like it had been locked, but it wasn't. The door was in no way jammed, either. Something had trapped him inside. He had no means of escaping.

The sound of the stranger's laughter made him whip around, pressing his back against the door. "You have no way out, Doctor. You have crossed boundaries you should have never crossed in the beginning. You spent your whole life living one of the study of the terrifying mysteries of the human mind and rose to become one that the people of Gotham fear the most - and you must suffer the consequences for it. For exposing them to what they have wanted to keep from the world, only to be disturbed by you. You _relished_ their pain and suffering...a suffering you long ago endured yourself, but you chose a path the world did not agree on. But that is not the most severe of transgressions - you have the wrath of the Demon Head on you, and he has charged me with carrying out your sentence in his place."

So he would not face Ra's al Ghul, but one of his lackeys had been charged with handling Jonathan personally. If he ever imagined his death, he would go down like a man and wishing his family would survive, but the fear in thanks to his own toxin was too overwhelming that it angered him that he would leave his wife and unborn child alone as a coward. _Talia, I'm so sorry. Take care of yourself, and our baby._ "So, I will die here, in forbidden territory I should never have crossed." Even his usual sarcasm wouldn't save him now.

The man was in front of him in a flash - how did he do that? And just as fast enough, to get behind him and draw with lightning speed a six-inch long Asian dagger and press it to his neck after his hair was grabbed in a handful and yanked back so he was staring up at the shadowed face of the hooded man. And then he felt it: a sharp pain from where the blade cut on the side of his neck, avoiding a major artery, and oozed blood down his straightjacket, staining it. His head was released roughly, and his hands went up to stop the blood, only to get his fingers sticky. "Blood spilled for submission...now strip."

Wordlessly and shaking his head feebly in protest - he jolted when the cold tip of the blade pressed against the bared section of the back of his neck as a warning if he refused - Jonathan worked to get out of the heavy and difficult jacket, the bindings more complex and taking more time than he thought, before he was left in his regular clothes which he numbly but quickly shed. Now naked, Jonathan stood up, shaking and taking a few breaths to try and calm his racing heartbeat. He was a married man, not used to this - why did he have to endure _this_ of all things? Unless Ra's al Ghul deemed this "proper", or this tool of his saw it as his own brand of sadistic pleasure before his punishment was lashed.

"Very good, now kneel down on your knees, Doctor." The box was handed in front of him. "The gateway to the pleasures of heaven or hell awaits you."

The moment the box was in both hands and he was sinking to his knees, Jonathan could have sworn he heard the sound of a bell tolling in the distance. The blood was still coming from the injury of his neck, oozing down over his bared, sweating chest. There was no way out of this; he was in on the deep end of the lava pit waiting for him to jump to the point of no return. This was in no way PLEASURE. Shakily, his fore, thumb and middle fingers searched far and wide in solving whatever the puzzle of this thing was, going through what was known as trial and error with no results - and then a segment or two slid out, one part forward and back, emitting a musical tune of melancholy, befitting his emotions.

At some point, at the same time, there was that damned bell again, steady and somber. Where was it coming from? He was nowhere near a church. But for sure, in the presence of his captor who had known he would come to this place from the beginning, he was nearing the end of this puzzle after what felt like an eternity. Puzzles were never his specialty, but that didn't mean he wasn't good at solving them, considering them all a waste of time - before another miracle happened. A new part of the box lifted and rotated in a clockwise motion and began to settle down into place, forming the shape of a kind of star -

-and then it happened: the immense pain as he felt the hooks that flew from the top of the box…going straight for his flesh and hooking themselves in enough to draw blood and attach to muscles and sinew beneath. Jonathan threw his head back and howled in pain, to the heavens, to Talia - who was still waiting for him to return, unknowing he never would - to anyone…and Ra's al Ghul's minion was laughing now.

The lights flickered out, but the pain remained as it was, and Jonathan Crane was vulnerable to whatever cruel fate had in store for him.

And then there was the hollow, baritone voice that filled his mind before he was swept off into a place where there would be no going back.

 _ **"Now we can begin."**_

 **Reference to "the Bat is as resourceful as they say", from Scarecrow's debut BTAS episode "Nothing to Fear". :D Truer words have never been spoken here. Also, special thanks to Clive Barker's novel which this story is named for, namely the first chapter. :D For those of you who have read the actual book "The Hellbound Heart". The final line from said first chapter as well as mentioned once in the fourth Hellraiser film, "Bloodline".**


	12. Visions

**Another movie which is (slightly) mixed with this story is "The Gift", which stars Cate Blanchett, Keanu Reeves and Katie Holmes (Rachel Dawes, "Batman Begins"), the latter of all three who is the keypoint. The title of the chapter should give a clue, but other than that, no spoilers until you read further on.**

 **Once more, no ownings of Batman or Hellraiser - and CERTAINLY not The Gift.**

Chapter Twelve

Visions

Ra's al Ghul was dead.

The water supply was being cleaned out, even if it would take time.

Dr. Crane was missing and wanted for his criminal activities, but a new director for Arkham Asylum was in order.

Wayne Manor was burned down by al Ghul, his former mentor, and his ninjas, but the story was that Bruce Wayne, "drunken billionaire", had done it; that story was a cover-up.

And Wayne Enterprises would soon have a new CEO sooner than everyone - even Earle - was thinking at this very moment.

"Batman may have made the front page, but Bruce Wayne got pushed to page eight," Alfred said from the front of the limo, handing him the morning newspaper in the process. Grinning, Bruce accepted it to see his handiwork. _Theatricality and deception: powerful weapons._ This was perfect. The Narrows might be in a gigantic wreck, his home which had lived on through six generations of the Wayne family burned to the ground, but at least the city was saved.

His mobile was ringing. "Bruce Wayne."

 _"What makes YOU think you can decide who's running Wayne Enterprises?"_ Earle was a little angry, and it made both Bruce and the man who both served his family and raised him smile. He'd secretly fired Earle as the "rightful" owner, having been in charge for far too long and abused his power, so his family's legacy needed a more trustworthy owner to ensure its path was in the right direction.

"Well, the fact that _I'm_ the owner," Bruce answered smugly. "It might have gone public with you, but it was I who bought most of the shares. Through charitable foundations and trusts and so forth." He snickered, turning his words back onto him from two nights ago on his birthday. "Look, it's all a bit techical, but the important thing is that _my_ company's future is secure. Right, Mr. Fox?"

 _"Right you are, Mr. Wayne."_ Now that _that_ was taken care of, it brought to mind the wife of a certain former head doctor of the asylum who still worked for him, and who he had also appointed as Lucius's junior executive because she was too talented and gifted to work so low with a brilliant record that she had.

~o~

Talia didn't go to work today, not that she cared, and Lucius and Wayne were both fine with it. However, because she was a bereaved widow now, Wayne offered her a new job as Fox's junior executive, she supposed she could accept it, if only to be a little closer to a higher power. And just because Lucius was now the president of Wayne Enterprises while Bruce was its new CEO and throwing Earle out, it didn't mean Applied Sciences didn't need anymore taking care of. She chose to do that herself, help Batman out...but that didn't stop her loathing the Bat for taking away her husband and rendering him more vulnerable to her vengeful father. _He doesn't know who you really are,_ her inner voice reminded her, but that didn't make it any better. Her father was dead, killed in the monorail crash which had been continuing the explosion of Jonathan's toxin into the air from the sewers and would have reached Wayne Tower if Batman hadn't interfered; her father's death was a relief if not wholly.

She was drinking her favorite green tea - Jonathan's favorite, too - to calm her soothing, aching, empty heart as well as nurturing their fatherless child in her abdomen when the doorbell ring. Already knowing who it was before she answered, Talia put on a fake small smile at the sight of him. "Bruce."

"Wanted to see how you were doing, Mrs. Crane," he said kindly. He was dressed in a navy blue sweater and cargo pants, showing off his strong body very well. Women would die to have a man like him, so seeing him in magazines with a girl or two on his arm wasn't a surprise. It was yet another good cover-up. "If this isn't a bad time," he added, looking her over still in her caftan at barely ten in the morning. She shook her head and stepped aside to let him in. The police had come and taken anything they could to convict her husband, but they didn't point any fingers at her when she told them she knew absolutely nothing of his research into fear.

"Never better," Talia answered, closing the door and walking back into the kitchen to get him some tea, too. "What about you? I'm happy to know you 'exiled' Earle," she said with a small laugh. He joined her in it; she had to admit he had a rather nice laugh that it made her soften a bit for the moment.

"Yeah, we won't be seeing him anymore. Thanks," he told her when she handed him a clean porcelain white mug filled with the soft earth-colored fluid steaming sweet and fresh in the air. "Ah, thanks. Been awhile since I had something like this."

"That's probably what happens when you're off traveling the world, am I right?" she asked carefully.

He nodded. "I could use some zen right now, after everything hectic that happened. My house burned, I got a penthouse for now until it's finished, and with you and Fox running the company while I'm not in office. Plus, Batman is on the front page with his 'heroic actions'." Despite the good news, his face fell. "But I didn't get the girl."

Talia almost scoffed. It was no secret to her that he and Rachel Dawes were childhood "sweethearts", but now that she knew Bruce was the one jumping over rooftops and making the criminals now fearful, she couldn't handle knowing the man she loved - the man who disappeared seven years ago - hadn't come back to her. "Maybe someday when Gotham no longer needs Batman, I'll see him again" was hardly likely. Bruce would wait forever for her, but she would get tired eventually.

Talia blinked then. She was thinking this as though she _liked_ Bruce that way! Of _course, he's handsome, wealthy, but has lost so many loved ones. He went through a life of suffering only for a cause, but I'm still married even though the man I love is yet to be found...or maybe never_.

"If it's not going to be a problem, Miranda," Bruce said softly, reaching out and putting his hand on hers which lay on the table, "I want to be friends with you. For now."

Now _he_ was talking as though he wanted her to be his lady companion. She absolutely refused to be someone's trophy, even felt like she was being unfaithful to Jonathan. But she was already nodding her head, and that was the seal of the deal.

~o~

 _Wind whistled in her ears, the sound waves sending the thrills of anticipation, of the unknown through her nerves and pulsating throughout her body. She was walking down a smooth path of stones, slick and shiny from whatever previous amount of precipitation had happened before today, green moss filling some of the cracks between the stones that alternated from brick to a relatively stylish Aztec sun pattern - like the sun above, guiding her through her path to her destination._

But what is my destination? _she wondered as she wandered through the clear way lined with trees - willow and elm alike - wearing nothing but a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem reaching mid-thigh, and bare-legged and bare foot. She ought to be embarrassed at walking through the outdoors half-dressed, but there was nobody around but her, and she was happy - carefree and happy._

 _But her smile and her happiness all but faded when she finally arrived at her destination at the end of the previously seemingly endless tree-lined pathway._

A painting hangs on an ivy wall  
Nestled in the emerald moss  
The eyes declare a truce of trust  
Then it draws me far away  
Where deep in the desert twilight  
Sand melts in pools of the sky  
Darkness lays her crimson cloak  
Your lamps will call, call me home

 _Standing before her, popping out intensely against the fresh, harmonic green of nature, was a tall Japanese_ torii. _The sound of her heartbeat began thundering in her ears, but she forced herself through the entrance. Not only was it used as simply a gate, but it was also the doorway to a shrine, namely the Shinto shrines of its country - the marking of a sacred place._

 _She found her feet meeting the soft, warm feel of grass….and then the cool, moist feel of water. Looking down, she saw the beginning of a lily pond of gray-blue that stretched out to a horizon, the surroundings of trees as green as her path had been. The divine white lotuses of Hinduism, Japanese, Indian - did it really matter? - and felt her heart soar, and the cheeriness returned. She_ loved _lilies - stargazer, calla, water, assorted - and reached down to pick one up, her fingertips brushing against the water that had gathered onto the lily pad. She lifted it to her nose to savor the sweet scent…but then something changed._

 _She gasped in horror when the flower began to transform; first it withered and darkened to dark brown, then to maroon purple, and finally…red. Like blood. At last, it shriveled to liquid form and dripped from her hands, staining her flesh at the same time. She tried to scream, but found she had no voice. Looking up, she saw that her surroundings had changed, too. The trees were now sporting the autumn seasonal colors of red, orange, brown, and some gold, and the lily pads nearly covering the pond – the water now inky black as the night sky – were edged with brown, on the brink of death. Now she knew where she was, and why she was here._

 _There was no life that lingered here._

 _Only death._

~o~

Talia gasped sharply as she bolted up in her bed - her and Jonathan's bed - and looked around, seeing that she was not in the outdoors, but seeing that she was alone. The feel of perspiration on her skin brought her the chills, the top of her white collared nightshirt soaked through. She needed some air.

She pushed the covers off and walked over to the Japanese screen doors of the bedroom, pushing them open and heading over to the back door, opening it to the porch and to an isolated boxed area, giving her privacy. Sighing, Talia, knelt down and sat on the middle step, savoring the night breeze and the smell of water off somewhere in the distance.

And then she felt it.

Something warm and wet dripped onto her bared knee. Looking down, Talia saw that it was water mingled with something red… _blood._ She let her jaw drop as a thought came to mind: _There is someone here. Someone bleeding…_ She looked up to see where it came from, and just about screamed.

There, hanging suspended by chains from the rooftop of the warehouse was that of a human being…except it wasn't - couldn't be - human. Rather a visceral thing of nightmares; no flesh, just the grotesque show of muscle and sinew of red, veins and little bone on display…and a pair of glacier-blue eyes she knew all too well. Talia shut her eyes and looked ahead, wishing that this was all just a bad dream that she wanted to wake up from…

To her relief, when she finally opened her eyes, the creature was gone.

~o~

The article was printed with the headline: _Search for Missing Psychologist Turned Rogue Enters Third Day._ And beneath it, between the columns of the article, was a photograph of Dr. Jonathan Crane. The former doctor now called "Scarecrow" had not been found, much less sighted, since that night - now called "Fear Night" by reporters, making Bruce laugh. But right now he wasn't laughing when Miranda Crane called on him one day while at the office. He smiled at her when she walked into the CEO's office in a long dark gray cardigan sweater over a white blouse and tight black pants, her long chestnut hair cascading over both shoulders. It made him wonder how such an enticing woman could be married to a monster like Crane.

"Miranda, so good to see you," he greeted her when she walked in and sat down in front of him. To think of her now as among his chief staff instead of a simple assistant. _But how come she chose to be one for her amazing record?_ It was only a theory, but maybe she wanted more but chose to start small as everyone else did. He simply understood by living on the streets in Asia while trying to understand the ways of a criminal as long as he never became one. But Miranda wasn't a crook, only unknowingly married one.

"You, too, Bruce." He watched as she shoved her hair off to one side and leaned backwards, exhaling deeply and not saying another word. He frowned; she wasn't here simply because of a social call. As though reading his mind, she said, "I'm not here just because I wanted to see you and...thank you for offering friendship yesterday," she said slowly.

Bruce gave her another smile. "Welcome. But what's the situation?" His eyes fell to her hands wrapping over her abdomen; she was pregnant and not that far along, but to know the child would grow up without a father didn't fit right for Bruce, but marriage wasn't on his radar unless he found the woman. He _had_ , but she rejected his other self and would be elsewhere until the "time was right". He would gladly wait forever for Rachel to come around, and he wouldn't rest on anyone but her. She had always been the one for him ever since they were children, and for her to know who Batman was should have brought them closer.

Miranda, however, accepted him as Batman because she was willing to - wait, he couldn't go that far because she never said anything about a relationship. And she had just lost her husband, her child just lost its father. "Last night," she said quietly, calmly, keeping her wide blue eyes on him - her face was soft and rooting with not only Middle Eastern roots, but also kind of Russian - and parting her lips after another exhale of breath through her nose, "I had this...dream about my husband. I would have talked to my friend and colleague Evelyn Harmon who works for you, too, but this is beyond her, for lack of better words, and if I told the police, they'd think I was losing it and recommend 'psychiatric help'." She laughed sarcastically before launching into the most vivid, grim detail Bruce had ever heard that he recited in his mind: _picturesque lily pond…Japanese_ torii _…and a skinless, visceral creature hanging by a chain, dripping blood and water._

"It was horrible," she finished, covering her mouth with one hand, the hand still showing her wedding rings that she was not willing to remove yet. "I know it was him because of those _eyes..._ "

He wasn't a psychiatrist, but he wasn't sure if he would call her crazy either. Bruce almost asked why she didn't speak to Fox first, but he wasn't a doctor either. He believed in cheap parlor tricks like Ra's al Ghul had done to conceal his true self, but dreams and visions? _Now that I think this was what it was. She's not crazy._ "And you saw this in a dream," was all Bruce could get out.

"It wasn't just a dream. I think it was…a vision. It was crystal clear as I see you in front of me right now." She took a deep, shaky breath and hesitated with the next words.

"I think Jonathan's dead, Bruce. And I think…he's in a pond."

Silence.

Bruce drummed his fingers on the desk out of habit, though he was shocked for his junior executive to boldly reach the conclusion that her wanted husband was dead - or rather, _skinless_ and chained down in a pond somewhere. To the fainthearted, the slightest of persons would faint or die from the details. He suspected she knew more than she was telling him; if that was the case, she would end up in serious trouble for witholding information from the police. But even though she didn't voice it aloud, she was asking him, as Batman, to look for her. _Gladly._ "I grew up in Gotham, but there aren't very many places in the city with what you're telling me. But the Palisades might be rural and natural enough to house the most of lily ponds. If I can...scout tonight and leave a tip for the police to see if any of them have him, and then the police would recover his body."

 _"_ What about the Japanese _torii_ in my dream?" Miranda asked, leaning forward, her eyes alight with hope - and worry.

"None that exist in Gotham, but the Shinto shrines of Japan are gated with them." But Shinto shrines didn't exist physically in the world, believed to reside in the spiritual world and serving as places of prayer. _Torii_ gateways mark as the entranceways." His brain then clicked: _sacred place…prayers…sounds like a church to me._ He almost jumped as realization hit him like a thunderbolt, as Miranda did with him. "I think Crane is in the pond behind the old abandoned church in the Palisades. That's the only place I can think of. My great-grandfather first constructed it before the minister died and left its condition deteriorated."

"And Daggett Industries is currently contemplating tearing that place down for construction," Miranda finished.

He would get there tonight then, all for her. Crane had a lot to answer for, but if it was true and he was dead, then his widow deserved to have his remains given back and arranged for proper burial. For all he knew, despite his crimes, his wife believed in him until the very end. "Then I'm going to check it out tonight and send the notice to Gordon. He'll bring the force in."

~o~

The police called her later the next day with the news of the information from the Batman - _thank you, Bruce_ \- as to where her missing husband would be. But Talia knew the truth, although she put on her best face as to not give away any suspicions. At the end of the day, she was allowed to return to her "hideout" so she could change - she selected a purple lily striped blouse and jeaned shorts, and Bruce and Lucius, as well as the butler Alfred - and that insufferable Dawes woman who remained close friends with Bruce - came with her. The old church in the Palisades was constructed of stone bricks and old Catholic influences in the architecture, the cracks in the stones filling with moss, surrounded by forestry…and Lord knew behind it was the lily pond in Talia's dreams.

And it was.

Being at the place for real was very surreal - and unsettling - to Talia's heart and nerves, and not one of the others around her did no help to ease it.

The scenery was as it had been in her dream - the lily pond appeared to stretch on for miles even though it ended at over thirty feet. Many of the glimmering white flowers on the green pads were dead or dying due to the season, and many of them separated due to the three boats the men of the unit took with their fishing hooks and nets to fish out what they were looking for. Talia stood on the edge of the bank, watching with her arms folded across. This place reeked of what was in her dream - she could smell it as much as she could smell the suffocation of the Pit's walls and lack of sun save for that of the impossible escape that lingered above the prisoners' heads.

"Miranda…" Rachel's voice broke her out of her reverie. "…you look kind of strange." She was meant to be concerned, but it wouldn't work on Talia. She looked at her coolly but said nothing. This woman was no friend of hers despite being close with Bruce, but also turned him down. She looked up when Lucius came beside her and nodded wordlessly, patting her back for comfort. Alfred had raised Bruce after the murder of his parents, and Talia saw him as one who could have taken her in instead of her father, but then it was impossible.

"Hey." Bruce had come beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. She stiffened, knowing he wasn't hitting on her now at a time like this. "You holding up?"

She opened her mouth, but couldn't find what words to say. And then there was the shout of an officer to Jim Gordon. "Jim, you better take a look at this!"

Talia found herself jerking forward but not falling into the water as she watched as one of the boats' occupants worked on bringing their net and hooks up…and by their grunts and strains of arms lifting, they caught _something._ She slapped a hand over her mouth when they finally pulled out the net and its contents. Behind her, Rachel gasped and staggered backwards only for Alfred to stop her, and Lucius remained where he was as he uttered "Oh, dear" at the sight of what the net had caught.

That thing - that _thing_ could not be a human being, without so much as a hint of the translucent flesh she loved to kiss and caress with her hands if it were still alive. There was nothing but pulpy pink sinews and muscles, and the dark blue lines of veins, as well as some hints of bones. "It's him!" yelled out the officer whom she'd heard before.

Those eyes wide open and seeming to pierce through her soul - even in death - caused something in Talia to snap altogether. This feeling festering in her, and in the pit of her aching stomach where her child stirred, was the same as it had been when Jim Gordon told her of Jonathan's arrest. "Get those hooks out of my husband!" she screamed out, collapsing into Bruce's arms and surrendering to a storm of heavy weeping, uncaring of everyone else around her and still feeling the blank but torturous stare of her Jonathan's corpse.

 **Oh, God, that was bloody intense. :O Nothing much to say, for some reason. I'm just as shocked as you all are.**


	13. Rebirth

**So now we are sort of into the events of TDK, but now things have taken a turn for the supernatural realm and into the events of "Hellraiser" itself, things are tweaked now, including some events and aspects from TDKR. So far as we all know: Rachel is obviously dating Harvey Dent, the Joker is causing mess, Bruce is still doing a hella fine job as Batman, and Talia is raising her and Jonathan's child by herself - but the story is FAR from over. ;D Don't give up yet!**

Chapter Thirteen

Rebirth

It was one hell of a "fine" year Talia had gotten into since her husband's corpse was recovered from the pond behind the old church in the Palisades, but the murderer was never found. Batman would never piece it himself because the real killer was long-gone from the earth, though he told _Miranda_ that it had to have been someone who harbored a grudge against Dr. Crane, like an old escaped patient, given not all the inmates were picked up off the streets after that night.

Aiden was born nine months later, healthy and screaming and bloody as he should be. The sight of him had made Talia remember how she, her friends and colleagues, and the police found his father without the protection of flesh, drained of blood from being underwater for a period of four days - she couldn't go on with the description. The corpse had been taken to forensics for evaluation, but there had been nothing other than "random frenzy" to give them any clues as to who the butcher had been. _My father always has his methods of evasion._ He never lived to see their son born, and Bruce as well as Lucius and Evey being there beside her during the twelve hours of labor changed nothing.

 _Aiden, meaning "little fire",_ she thought with a little smile to him, now in her arms and the bouquet of white lilies in her free hand. He sported tufts of dark hair, from both parents, but she had to say that he had _his father's eyes._ Barely two months old, and he was far more precious than any gem in the world. But her heart broke to know that he would never know his father.

The funeral had been attended by her, Bruce, Lucius - all for her - Evey, Jim Gordon for her sake, but no one else even cared after learning what Jonathan really was. Press had taken pictures of the scene, but they were waved off by security to respect the grieving widow's space. Talia appreciated it, but knew that the headlines would make a good story: _Grieving Widow Miranda Crane and Friends Attend Late Doctor's Funeral_.

Jonathan had been buried under the shade of a tree, the plot surrounded by a small, elegantly crafted gate lovingly crawled with lush green plants that weren't even remotely close to weeds. She held onto Aiden and the lilies with one hand as she reached down to unlock the gate for her to step in, as she was wearing heels and felt trouble would arise - and cried out when the back of her hand accidently brushed against a vine that had begun growing over the fence over a weeklong period, scraping against and tearing open the skin, causing blood to rise to the surface and drip out. "Perfect," she hissed. The baby looked down at it with curious eyes and then up at her, sensing his mother's distress. She smiled and placed a tender kiss on his soft forehead. "Just a scratch. Mummy's fine."

She had a "lunch date" to get to in an hour - more like a meeting with Wayne Enterprises to discuss the plan to construct what was to be a fusion reactor, first of its kind, and according to John Daggett, a "save the world vanity project"; that bastard needed to be put in his place - but she needed only a few moments to "speak" to Jonathan.

Her hand was still bleeding by the time Talia approached the gravestone and laid the flowers down, three drops she counted dripped onto the grass above the earth where her beloved husband rested. "Not my idea of fun today," she said with a nervous laugh to the stone, reading his name, dates of birth and death, as well as _Beloved Husband_ _and_ _Father_. "But at least Junior here gets to see you again." She bounced Aiden up and down, making him laugh and reach to playfully tug at the neckline of her exquisitely beaded blue dress. "And we don't have much time to be here before I leave to discuss the future of Gotham…to clean up the mess my father made…"

Philanthropic work had always been her specialty, but it had grown stronger since Ra's al Ghul rampaged Gotham, and she was cleaning up the trouble he had left on this place. But there was always a small part - just a small one - that carried the weight of guilt for bringing it to this city to begin with. And on the few people who mattered to her.

They stayed talking for less than half an hour before Talia checked the time and decided it was time to leave. Before she stood, she leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of the stone and whispered "We love you" before rising and leaving.

From afar and oblivious to her, there was the sound of a beating heart…a heart beating _beneath the earth…_

~o~

The suggestion had been Miranda's from the beginning, but Bruce wasn't so sure about this. A fusion reactor for cleansing the energy sources of the entire city of Gotham and ridding of all toxicities of any sort that could damage the enviroment was a dream come true - but he doubted the results would be consequence-free. After reading up on weaponized fusions published by a Russian nuclear scientist called Leonid Pavel, Bruce couldn't take the chance even though he was ready to get to work right away. The philanthropic side of him still had high hopes if his young executive did.

He couldn't help but think how movie-star beautiful Miranda was today in her beaded blue dress she wore for the lunch meeting, and how her hair was held out of her face today. She'd brought her son with her so everyone, including Bruce, could greet him, but also for mother and son to have some time together. She had a weekly babysitter, even having Alfred take care of him while she was working. Bruce had offered her to move in with him even though they were no more than friends, but she refused, choosing to remain independent. They were still just friends because she still hadn't moved on from her husband, and he hadn't gotten over Rachel, even though she was now dating the new DA who was an admirable, strong voice for peace. Bruce tried to respect Rachel's choice of man even though the jealousy bubble was threatening to blow up in the event of time.

He had a free evening tonight, so he wanted to have a dinner "date" tonight with her. Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, with his longtime colleague Miranda Crane, the "Scarecrow's Widow", as some people called her. But she was always good at hiding how she truly felt. _How can they talk about her when she's a young widow with a baby boy?_ Everyone of the Wayne board was filing out, but he followed Miranda close behind her. Earlier, he'd seen how her right hand was wrapped with gauze and bandage. "What happened to your hand?" he asked.

"Visited Jonathan's grave, cut my hand on a vine," she answered. "It's fine."

"I should take a look for you," he said, getting a laugh and shake of the head.

"Bruce, you're so overprotective sometimes, you know that?"

He laughed after her. "Because I care about another's well-being. And you're a dear, dear friend."

~o~

 _It was beneath this very earth that something that had once belonged in the natural world above was moving. The familiar_ da-lub _of a heartbeat raptured the attention of no one in particular in this place forsaken not for eternity, but for the night, save for the crows that had come to perform their nightly duties as the guards of the resting places of loved ones and evildoers who would soon be forgotten._

 _However, their pitless dark eyes were focused only on one particular grave._

 _It was a lonely spot in the cemetery, underneath a tree planted special, surrounded by an intricate fence crawling with vines that bore thorns, as protection from intruders who dare place their hands for support as they would hoist themselves to disturb this one soul's place of rest. But tonight it was not a grave robber that disturbed its peace in the dead of night._

 _The caws of the black birds on top of other headstones and others in the trees - and others atop the edge of the roof of the church - became frantic as they witnessed the quivering and incoming roars of the gated area they viewed, the one that laid distances away from the others in near-close proximity. To anyone else, it would have been a minor earth shake that never happened in this part of the country, but no one in existence or even in the past had ever seen anything like this. Especially one that produced a bubbling, pus-like substance that oozed side by side before the headstone of Jonathan Crane, former head psychologist of the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane - and the fearsome Scarecrow to his victims of his experiments of fear - husband of almost-wealthy businesswoman Miranda Tate, and father of a two-month-old boy._

 _And then the stuff of nightmares began to happen before the eyes of the crows. And the heavens far above, where thunder began to rumble._

 _Two long, spindly pieces shot straight up and out from the soiled earth, penetrating through grass and standing tall as towers for no more than two seconds before flopping down on opposite sides in the shape of wings…or arms supporting the weight of a body. A body that was beginning to follow suit, slowly by parts of the anatomy. The brain started first, beginning as blood rising like the flames of hell, its important anatomical details - lobes, arteries, limbic system and all - coming together in their correct order, the cerebrospinal fluids leaking onto the ground in the process._

 _As the brain continued to bring itself together, the body began its own self-construction. The spinal cord was already intact along with the neck, which was twitching eagerly, ready to meet with the almost-finished brain - when it did, shooting forward and fusing together, the arms had by then gathered much of their old strength to elevate the torso upwards; ribs were beginning to protrude and form, curving and attaching to one another until the sternum was secured._

 _From the carpal bones emerged the middle, fore, and ring fingers, accompanied by the thumbs and pinkies on both hands, bursting out like flowers in bloom. But this was not a pretty sight as it was watching a blossom grow._

 _As soon as all the bone structures joined together to create one whole, the thing that they formed – a thing that was once human but could_ not _be human now – threw its head back and let out a guttural scream into the night air that could wake any far-off city folk…_

~o~

Talia awoke with a sharp gasp and an inhale of precious oxygen. She could feel the perspiration on her skin. She hadn't felt it this serious since the night of having that dream which happened to be of where her husband's body had been found…and she knew what was going on this time. If Bruce knew about this, he would tell her it was only PTSD, but no. She knew better than that.

It was another vision.

Realizing that brought forth the tremors she had experienced a year ago. Any "sane" person would find it hard to believe unlike she, for she'd been around and known mysterious things in her life, but after what she saw happened to her husband and it proved to be true...

… _he's alive_.

She jolted out of bed in a flash, but with enough of her to check on Aiden at the foot of her bed to see that he was still sleeping. Ever since she brought him home from the hospital, he'd been up and screaming all night for the past six weeks, as expected of a newborn. But tonight he was sweet as an angel. And according to the clock on the wall, it was a little after midnight. But she was wide awake and _had_ to get down to the cemetery now and confirm her suspicions.

Deep down she knew it was true.

Talia decided that the event didn't have to involve anything too extreme - or she prayed - so she settled on remaining in her long black silk nightgown and throwing on a white collared shirt and sneakers. She was the only occupant to own this penthouse she'd acquired since during her pregnancy, after she decided to move out of the apartment she once shared with her late husband. It was cavernous, by day glittering when drenched in sunlight, boasting Italian marble floors, modernized chandeliers, technology beyond your wildest dreams, and walls of ebony wood. Every window in every room offered spectacular views of Gotham. On her way to the front door, she passed through her bedroom door that happened to be next to the kitchen and then through the sitting room, which bore clean, sleek white furnishings and eventually the front door. It was enough for a single person for temporary living, but she would eventually find something smaller and cozier for Aiden to grow.

Traffic tonight and any other night wasn't as terrible as it tended to be during the day. Not that anyone would be out this late with all the criminal activity. Nevertheless, Talia carried her pistol in her girdle that she'd strapped on before leaving the house. She parked the car and locked it before strutting in the direction of the cemetery. She barely acknowledged the other headstones around her, keeping in mind only the one she held in particular.

And then she saw it.

Jonathan's grave was undisturbed as it had been earlier that day. However, the only oddities were the shines of blood mingled with ooze in a puddle before the gravestone. Her stomach churned. The air stenched of death and decay. Part of her wanted to turn and leave this place. But her other half insisted on staying for what she came here for. "Oh, my God…"

She screamed and jerked down when she felt it, her heart literally leaping out of her chest when the fingers closed around her bared ankle. Only devoid of flesh, showing nasty yellowish bones that were actually close to a dark taupe in the darkness of the night. And shiny and oozing pus. Talia knew screaming would do her no good, so she settled on falling to the ground and trying to escape the nightmarish being that crawled her way. She knew that the only way out was over the fence, but her legs had lost their strength and enabled her trapped in the overwhelming fear that consumed her at this very moment.

The face could very much haunt her dreams for years to come, for the cheeks were hollow and sunken in, the eyes surrounded by dark circles resembling black paint when it wasn't. But they surrounded a pair of vivid, icy blue eyes that she remembered all too well.

The rest of that face - and the rancid smell of it - brought the bile up her stomach, but she managed to hold it in. The meat and muscles - she actually had no idea how to describe it in actual terms - was just as she thought it was, dark taupe and slimy with ooze. And the mouth opened to show deteriorated gums and teeth, but the single word came out without trouble:

"Talia!"

She was too paralyzed with fear to comprehend what to say or do next; all she could think of was that Aiden was probably awake by now and screaming for his mother's care, and she cursed herself for her foolishness. The creature that rested before her, above her legs, had turned his head away as if in shame. "Don't look at me." She almost felt sympathy for him, because who could blame him for how he looked?

"Who-who are you?" she managed, obeying the wish and swiveling her head to her right. She could feel the panic bringing forth the tears that now burned the rims of her eyes. When she received no response, she repeated the question. "Please…tell me…who you are."

There was no sound but the distant cry of a crow somewhere overhead, and a whisp of wind that began to pick up, adding to the new aura of terror.

"Jonathan."

 **Incorporating the reunion of Frank and Julia in the movie was fun, and it's always been one of my favorite scenes, as well as the bloody rebirth scene of Frank, which I hope I managed for Jonathan. :D But at the same time: UGH, gross!**

 **On the DVD feature of the movie Hellraiser, called "Resurrection", the rebirth was partly described like flowers in blood.**


	14. Temptation

**It's been a wild ride blending Barker's work with Christopher Nolan, putting Jonathan Crane in Frank Cotton's place. :) I'm pleased with how this story has come out so far.**

Chapter Fourteen

Temptation

He was in pain. Physically, mentally, emotionally…and spiritually. Words did it no justice. Jonathan Crane had long gone against his great-grandmother's beliefs of some idyllic afterlife - after all, a true scientist firmly believed all life was a natural process and not the work of an unseen God - and look where it had gotten him. Ra's al Ghul's deception and seeking of destruction of Gotham because it was too broken to be fixed - and the dark pleasures of pain which he'd experienced - had lead to him having one of his minions to forcing Jonathan to solving the puzzle of that accursed box, and from there to a death only an ill-minded soul could devise. And hell to pay there had been.

Everything had been taken from him: his life, his career, everything…especially his family. His Talia. Whom he had crossed the lines and entered in a love affair that should never have happened. _And yet had been the best thing that ever happened to me._

He had felt his body grow back together in places. Felt it, first the heat of the blood calling him back to her, and now found himself back in the world from which he had been ripped, but he was far from finished. No doctor around him would look at him and diagnose what was missing without recoiling in fear and disgust. He knew how hideous he looked…grotesque…a horrible monster…and his sweet wife whom he now lay barely over in the open air, in a graveyard of all places, was in the state he imagined: terror. But now she was looking at him, her eyes wide when he told her who he was.

"J-Jonathan…how…?" She _believed_ him. She knew it was really him. He kept his gaze lowered.

"Your blood…on my grave…it brought me back."

~o~

Jonathan…her Jonathan was back…only he wasn't the same she remembered, at least in appearance. Something had happened to him in the…other world that made him like this. Her father was to blame. Only he was dead, and she couldn't do anything to him now. She felt the fear in her subside as she looked upon the sight of Jonathan, broken and unlike any other being in the world. She looked down at her left wrist, which had been bandaged before she left for the lunch meeting only for Bruce to pry and take a look himself. _I brought him back…_ And then his voice, pleading, broke her out of her reverie.

"Oh, Talia, just help me, will you?" He had moved up closer to her so his face was barely a foot away from hers. "PLEASE, GOD, HELP ME!" His voice had risen to a near octave that she had to shush him harshly before someone heard, like the graveyard caretaker. He lowered his voice then. "You can't leave me like this, you can't!"

 _And I won't,_ Talia promised silently, sliding out from under him so her back butted deeper into the fence behind her, smoothing out her skirt. "What…do you want me to do?"

Jonathan shrank away from her, sucking in breaths of air as if it had been so long since he savored precious oxygen into his fractured lungs. "The blood brought me this far. I need more…"

Something in her snapped then and there. He needed blood, and blood was important and vital to human life…and that meant… "You want me to bring you someone living," she whispered, reaching up to nervously finger the lace below her neck. He wanted her to bring a…living person…a sacrifice…

"Yes." He lifted his head up so she could see that his eyes were dilated with his pleas. "You have to _heal me."_

That would make her a murderer, if anyone ever found out. She'd sworn never, ever to get her hands stained with blood again, but that didn't mean she was afraid of it. She had done so many times before Ra's died, but barely since their son was born. She was a mother now, and - _Oh, my God. Aiden._ She couldn't predict whether they could actually get away with this this time. Once she rescued her revived husband from his torment in Hell, the police - especially Batman - would find out and hunt him down. He might even be bombarded with questions as to _how_ he was alive; he might even be suspected of faking his own death to get away.

Talia looked back at her husband, who had by now begun crawling to his headstone, reaching out with one hand to trace his fingertips over his name and the dates; since his back faced her, she couldn't see his facial reaction. "Jon?" she asked tentatively, rising slowly to her feet, grasping onto the gate, careful not to cut herself again on any thorns.

He didn't turn around in response. "Jon?" she tried again.

This time he did turn his head around, a small cracking in his neck bones. "Will you do it?" he asked in that same broken voice.

She nodded. "I will. But you can't come home with me." _Not when Bruce comes along, and not when anyone else of high importance pays visits, or any fundraisers I hold._ Jonathan didn't need to actually ask why; the look in his eyes said it all. "Suppose anyone found out, and it got back to the police…" He nodded once, briefly, in understanding. "So perhaps it's best to hide out in one of the crypts around here."

~o~

The last thing he needed was to hide out in this place. The mausoleum. Not that he faulted his wife for not bringing him home since someone was likely to find him out. No one would even take the sight of him, and they would do worse than simply lock him up, that was for sure. He knew how he looked even though he hadn't seen his own reflection yet. Studying the human muscular system on chart and other forms of visual were enough for him to conjure up his own image.

He hid behind one of the pillars, the shadows being kind enough to protect him from harm. Talia stood in the doorway, her silhouette fluttering in the wind picking up bigger outside. She was as beautiful as he remembered, the white cotton shirt drawn open to show her nightgown that she hadn't bothered to change out of to come here, to him; black with lace trim around the bodice and through the plunging neckline, hugging her curves and sweeping wide. _So irresistibly beautiful…_

Then his eyes fell to her abdomen, not seeing the firm roundness of pregnancy; he didn't even remember to ask what became of their child, but he just hoped to GOD she didn't lose it while he was gone...

They spoke no words then, just her giving him a small smile before closing the door behind her, leaving him cloaked in darkness and his own thoughts. The sooner he received all the blood he would need to fully restore himself to his former structure, the better chance he had at ultimately evading the _Cenobites_ who had altered him in ways unimaginable. The suffering he endured was nothing compared to his own in his previous life that he could not describe at the present.

~o~

In her bedroom at her home apartment, this one room for herself and Aiden was supposed to be a place to dream. And it really was. But not always for good dreams. Lately the bad ones had come and go. Sometimes Talia wondered if she was destined to suffer from lack of sleep or waking up crying and sweating the next day, and walk through the day a ghost of what she used to be. People whispered that she, Miranda Crane, was suffering from PTSD after her husband died. She would scoff. They didn't know the half of it. But she refused to label herself with any simple-minded "illness" given by man.

Today when she awoke in the sage-colored sheets and blissfully cloud-soft comforter, she realized that she was supposed to spend the day with Bruce. And she needed to start today by going out and finding…someone…for Jonathan. Who was waiting _agonizingly_ in that crypt.

She decided that it could wait until she and Bruce were through with their "fun time" - and he was bringing his newest spare, a woman named Rebecca, along with him. This did, indeed, arouse Talia's suspicions. While Bruce was doing this as his cover up, she couldn't help but feel there was something…off about the hazel-eyed, red-haired woman whom Bruce met at a charity donation in Chicago. Yes, she was beautiful and everything, humorous and fascinated with business, although there was something about the way she looked at Talia…and she could have sworn she'd seen that glint somewhere else…

"Bruce, could you stay with Aiden while I run a couple errands?" she asked as soon as the three returned back to her apartment for a movie and a couple drinks. She carried the baby in both arms and handed him cooing delightfully to her friend and boss. "I should head over to the video store or something and rent us some movies for the rest of the day," she suggested with a wink.

Bruce laughed. "You don't want us to come?"

"Not really; I want to surprise the two of you."

"Is it going to be anything that the little one here isn't supposed to see?" Rebecca asked with a raised eyebrow. Talia looked at her but avoided direct eye contact.

"Aiden's too young to understand much of anything anyways," she promised. "It's going to be a…fun day." She kept the cheeriness in her tone intact, hoping it wouldn't rouse suspicion as to what she could - and would - be actually doing while she was out.

She was still wearing the same black denim jacket and matching tulip-shaped skirt when she made her way to a local, airy, modern-structured bar down in the city, stopping at the doorway to browse and try to locate anyone whom she could bring down to the cemetery…so that they could be alone. Finally, at the bar itself, she spotted a man of barely middle years in a pressed gray business suit, bald save for dark hair wrapping around his ears and behind his head, alone and having what looked like a straight vodka glass. When she smoothly and casually seated herself beside him, only a couple seats away, he looked up at her then after being oblivious to the world around him. Talia wasn't fully unaware of the fact that his eyes swept over her body and back up to her face.

"Not much fun, isn't it?" he asked. "Drinking alone?"

Talia smiled at him. "You're right. Not much at all." She called for simply a glass of water, given she didn't want Bruce and Rebecca finding out that she'd been drinking while she was out. After taking a sip, she turned her body so she faced him full front. "Are you wondering if we could…" She batted her lashes at him. "…have a drink, together?"

The man chuckled and set his glass down. "Would your… _husband_ approve if he found out?"

She looked down and saw that her left hand resting on the countertop flashed her rings. "Oh, don't worry about that. I lost my husband a year ago. He was…taken from me."

"Oh." Sadness flashed in his eyes. "I'm sorry. But, if I'm not too straightforward…" He moved closer so he was nearly making body contact; she almost cringed, but did her best not to show it. "…if I could at least do something to help you move on?"

Talia felt it all rise up inside her like a fire: satisfaction, glee, excitement…and above all, fear. She had scored; she had _found_ the one. She gave him a crooked smile. "Why not?"

He gave her a sickening smile, and she knew right away that she _was_ doing the right thing in luring this man to his end; he wasn't wearing a ring, so that could also mean that he was a secret sexual predator. Maybe in not _that_ direction, but she was positive he would deserve what was coming to him. She let him pay for their drinks before bringing them both to her car after discovering he only lived down the street from the bar and only had to walk. _Just my luck,_ Talia thought as she let him escort her out and let her be the driver. _Here we come, my love. Just a little bit longer…_

Her unsuspecting "victim" looked at her the whole time she was driving. But she kept herself under control, her breathing, perspiration closed in the pores of her skin, and her heartbeat slowed to normal. "This'll be my first time doing something like this," he spoke after a few moments of silence.

She wanted to scoff. _No, it isn't. I know it isn't._ But she only gave a nervous laugh and nodded. "There's a first time for everything."

"That's right." She could feel his breath hot on her ear. "I suppose that's right." The feel of his hand firmly grasping her thigh made her jump in the driver's seat, and she almost got them into a collision. He looked at her with confusion. "Something wrong?"

"It'll be my first time…in a year," she answered honestly. "Since my husband died." _Yes, it will be my first time, but not with you, you fat, disgusting pig._

"It's funny, I feel like we were meant for each other. Like we've known each other for years." Her raging thoughts continued to pour out at the tightening hold of his hand on her thigh: _Oh, yes, you'lll pay for touching me this way. Jonathan will take care of you._ She felt the familiar weight of her hunting dagger in the girdle underneath her skirt, waiting patiently to be drawn out and do its work on human flesh. _And blood to be spilled for the one I love…_

They finally pulled into the parking lot before the cemetery. Her "companion" looked upon it with evident baffle. "A cemetery? What the hell are we doing here?"

Talia unbuckled herself, all the while giving him a seductive look. "Where's your sense of adventure? Does it _have_ to be at home, in a bed?"

The confusion subsided into a smirk. "I don't think so. Lead the way, lady."

The walk wasn't long, but she had to ensure that no one saw them at this time; as far as she glimpsed their surroundings, no visitors yet, but who knew how long they had? She performed the fun, secretive act by ducking behind gravestones and sculpted angels, the man whose name she didn't ask, nor did she care, following her lead, until they arrived at the place which would be his last visit: the crypt where Jonathan was waiting for them.

"Seriously, in here?" the man asked in disbelief, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mothballs and decay. Talia grinned at him as she closed the door behind them, locking it in the process.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it."

He turned back around to face her, smile tightly in place, no sign of suspecting anything…unusual. He had _no idea_ of the trap he had sprung without realizing. "You and your husband used to go various places for this, eh?" She smiled naughtily, though she was seething.

"Why don't you…take your jacket off?" She wanted to get this over and done with. She watched as he did so, leaving himself in his striped collar shirt, before moving forward and working on removing his tie; while she did so, he had the _nerve_ to lean in and kiss her neck, hoping it would arouse her, but it only made her shiver with disgust and increase her need to kill him. "Now…turn around…and drop your pants."

 _This is it,_ she thought as she watched him turn around and away from her, and decided it was now the time. She could sense - and smell - Jonathan's presence in the crypt, and reached deftly into her skirt, drawing the blade from the confides beneath her skirt, removing the sheath and exposing the blinding silver. Seeing as he was getting ready to stand up, she rushed over behind him in a flash…

…and the moment he was all the way up, pants down - but she refused to look down _there_ \- her knife slashed opened the man's throat, splitting the flesh and muscles open cleaner than the work of a butcher's knife.

The man's choking gasps were nothing new to her, neither was the blood spurting out and splattering onto the floor, pooling into a thick, gooey puddle beneath him as he fell to the ground and onto his side. It didn't get to be that big, because Jonathan's voice hissed from somewhere in the shadows and the pillars, "Don't look at me."

Talia couldn't disobey, so she unlocked the crypt's door and slipped outside, leaving it open ajar and gasping for air. The tremors shook her body even as she took in breaths of air, trying to recollect what had just happened. She hadn't done anything like that since her father had died; in fact, her memory on killing people was lost all on its own. Marrying Jonathan and settling into a normal life had softened her.

It wasn't long after till she head _the_ sounds of squishing and croaking like that of a frog.

~o~

He had crawled to the dead man with all his might, as he had gone to his wife out in the open the previous night. His first prey - perhaps first of two or three in order to sustain himself - was losing blood at a rapid pace, so he had to make haste. Jonathan crawled out of his hiding place to the corpse and bowed forward, exposing the stranger's neck, separating the collar of his shirt from that large, meaty column, and sank his teeth into there.

The taste of fresh blood was like eating chicken, salty and too incredible for words. He savored every drop of it until there was none left for him to fill himself, but it was satiable enough. Soon enough, he felt it begin.

His body was rumbling like the earth on the near highest point on the Richter scale. The feeling that followed felt immense, like he was experiencing the best orgasm of his life as he had with Talia during their sessions in bed, coursing through his system and enflaming his veins, through his bones, throughout every part of his broken body. Pain was no stranger, for birth was _always_ painful, and he had felt it when he brought himself back together. Jonathan laid himself on the hard, concrete floor of the tomb and let out painful moans when he underwent another major bodily transformation that didn't involve body parts emerging and more bones expanding.

~o~

She heard the screams and stifled her own with a hand slapped over her mouth. The rush of adrenaline coursed through her then - from her heart to through her veins and arteries, the bloodflow in them going back and forth. In that order. From both fear and excitement, reasons being obvious. _Jonathan is going to live again, and we'll be together again._ But Talia still wasn't entirely sure about all of this.

Raising the weapon she'd used in her hand to her face, she glimpsed her own reflection in the unbloodied parts of the silver metal. The face of a woman who brought her husband back from the dead with her own blood…the face of a _murderess_. She had killed a man. Her first kill in a little less over two years.

 _But look at it this way,_ her other self whispered dangerously, _you did it for your man. Aren't you willing to spill more blood for him than already done?_

 _True. Too true._

 _No one will miss that man. He's a predator, and you know it._

And then she heard his voice. "Talia…"

That was her cue to reenter the crypt.

And the sooner she did, the more she was ready to turn and flee the sight of the rotted corpse that now lay face-up on the concrete floor. The thing was utterly drained of blood, too grotesque for words except for the fact that yellowish ooze - dried and squishy alike - pooled out from under it. Talia swallowed the bile back down her throat, reaching up to grasp her hair in sheer frustration and unbridled horror. "By Allah…"

 _"Ahhh…"_

She just about jumped out of her skin when she looked up to see the being stepping out from the shadows, in bolder form than before if far from completion.

She could make out much of the muscular system, the meats being pink, some sections white as should be, but still shiny from fluids and far from receiving the pure red of life's blood, though certain parts, such as the rib cage, were still uncovered. She wasn't sure how many men he would need so he would fully be regenerated, but she supposed one or two. Either way, this was her husband, her Jonathan, father of Aiden. _And a long-dead wanted criminal._ Taking a shaky step forward at the same time as he, she pondered what to say before he started speaking, holding both his hands up, which were black-tipped - and it wasn't even nail polish, and he didn't have fingernails yet - as though spotting something fascinating.

"See…" he said, sounding very pleased with himself, "…it's making me whole again." Looking back up at her, she glimpsed the sparkled of life in his eyes. And the maniacal gleam she remembered first spotting the first night at the bar which had become their routine. "Every drop of blood you spill puts more flesh on my bones. And we both want that, don't we?"

His words…so lulling and seductive…and it was working. It was bringing back that sensual desire that had sparked that night, then nights afterwards turned into something more than just any ordinary affair. But while wonderful as it was, it was also frightening. Talia wondered if she could ever give herself to him right now with his bodily state. Hurting them both was the last thing on her agenda.

"Good…come here…" Jonathan's hand was still flexed out, gesturing her to come to him, but when she shook her head, his facial muscles contorted into something close to a frown of displeasure. "Come here, damn you!" His voice had risen only slightly, out of frustration, which startled her out of her wits, but then it softened to a plea. "I want to touch you."

Her heartbeat picking up, Talia found it in herself to move closer, dropping the knife to the floor, hearing the ring of the blade as it cluttered loudly and then stopped. Jonathan's mouth curved upwards gently at the corners in satisfaction. He continued to lure her closer to him. "Come to me..."

~o~

Recognizing the emotions - namely fear - in her eyes was no stranger to him, or to recognizing it in anyone else. Jonathan wondered if she was actually afraid of him because of how he looked at the present, but no, it couldn't be that. She'd be afraid of anything but him. He could smell her from his distance; he'd smelled her last night, but his senses were actually returning to him.

The weapon she'd used on the forgotten carcass on the floor equally forgotten, his beloved wife was reaching up to unbutton the black jacket. He knew what she was doing, no actual words intended, and he could feel it building up in his system, the lower section of himself not yet properly functioning, so he could savor the thrums of sensation through his nerves - which were aching as they began to work again. It had been so long since they'd been together like this. Seeing Talia open her jacket to expose her breasts to his touch - much to his surprise, she had them bared to open air. No bra. He loved it.

He was on the verge of having his outreached hand making physical contact with her lovely breasts before there was the sound of a phone ringing.

Talia shrieked and jumped out of her skin before reaching into her jacket pocket to answer her mobile. "Bruce, Bruce? Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I'm going to get the stuff; I just got stuck in traffic, preoccupied. I apologize. I'll be home soon. Please, change Aiden for me, you do that. Yes, goodbye."

 _Bruce..WAYNE._ Ah, so she was with the spoiled, stuck-up rich man. Jonathan felt a brief, utter feeling of betrayal that she possibly had moved on over him while he'd been dead, but before he could ask her, he winced when a sharp pain coursed through his spine and over the whole of his back. Pair that with the question of _Who is Aiden?_ through his mind. Talia noticed this when she put her phone back. "Jonathan?"

"I'm hurting," he admitted.

Her brow furrowed. "Hurting?" she repeated.

"My nerves are beginning to work again," he clarified. His hand found its own way back up to her breast, finally grasping it and savoring the feel of the heavy weight of flesh and a hardening peak, eliciting a brief moan from her. Jonathan shuddered. "And I am regaining my circulation, as well. I believe I will need…" He paused to think. "…one more. Maybe two. Heal me completely and then we can get away from here before _they_ start to follow." He tightened his jaw as he envisioned himself back to Hell with _them,_ teased and tormented, unable to get what they had promised to give him to "ease your pain and suffering".

Talia looked him on, confusion evident on her face. "Who, my love?"

"The Cenobites. It's only a matter of time before they find out I…slipped them. I must get away from here. From Gotham. Go someplace where it's just the two of us."

"And Aiden."

Oh, so there it was again. He needed to know who Aiden was. "He's our son," Talia told him as though reading his mind.

His breath hitched. A son… _we have a son_. _The child survived, after all._ And then that blasted phone was ringing again, bringing them both out of it. He growled to match Talia's frustrated groan as she answered it. "Yes, Bruce?" There was a pause. "Oh, Rebecca went home, did she? Well then, I guess it's just the three of us, then. Well, okay. Now let me go so I can avoid getting into an accident," she lied before hanging up and turning her attention back on to him.

"You and Wayne..." His voice was low and menacing, bordering on jealousy.

"We are not together as you might be thinking," she said firmly, locking eyes with him so he could see she wasn't lying. "We are just friends and nothing more." Talia turned to leave, but he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He reached with the speed and grace of a cobra and grabbed her wrist. "Jon, darling, please. Our son needs me back home."

"You won't abandon me, will you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "You'll stay with me, help me. You don't have another man since I died." He gazed into her eyes when she didn't respond, seeing the honesty that the answer was no. "You'll bring me more blood and life…and then we can be together the way we were before." He allowed his hand to be brought to her lips for a little kiss as a sensual gesture, the soft pad of her bottom lip sending tingling sensations from his hand to his arm. He moaned as he finished, "And let me see…our son."

 **Jonathan as the skinless seducer has been nothing short of sexy, as nasty as it sounds - and brand spanking new to Scarecrow fans, I think. :) To even imagine him in Frank Cotton's role was too good to be true, as well as Talia willing to do anything for the man she loves and bring their family back together.**


	15. Hellbound

**Now we are getting into TDK, although we focus more on the events in between the actual movie's. No spoilers, just enjoy. :)**

Chapter Fifteen

Hellbound

It had been difficult the next few days, keeping up appearances and trying to find the right time to go out to a bar without repeating at the same place in case things got suspicious to anyone in particular. Even Bruce. There was a new menace to Gotham calling himself the "Joker" - green-haired and covering his hideously scarred face with war paint to give himself the appearance of a clown - who made hobbies of ripping off the mob's money, but now it had gone to extremes when he broadcasted a video of killing a Batman imposter and warning the city that if the real Batman did not take off his mask and turn himself in, people would die every day. That was two days ago, beginning that night at Bruce's fundraiser for Harvey Dent - a way of making fun of him, in Rachel's words - only for Joker to crash and demand the DA, but his girlfriend ended up thrown out a window only for Batman to rescue her.

Now Rachel was marked a target, from what Bruce told her.

She and Rachel Dawes were still never close, but that didn't mean she should hate her now that Jonathan was alive. That meant Aiden would have his father back, but Jonathan had yet to meet his baby son, and that would have to wait. Talia also couldn't risk any of the next men to follow seeing that she had a child and lose her chance.

This next one, three days after the first, was just as much of a scumbag as the last. He was a skinhead, though not the gangster-style that roamed the streets, of the business unit of the workforce, who claimed that he and his wife were falling out of their marriage and began to seek company elsewhere. But Talia did not believe his story one little bit. She'd encountered men like this before; excuses such as this were enough for them to go out and get their rocks hard. Luckily, he met his end tastefully thanks to Jonathan. Talia had a plan, since the last one wasn't even missed, to have this one tossed into a dumpster late in the night and be found the next day or so. She was smart to have gloves on and prevent any of her DNA from getting on any of his clothing or decomposed, bloodless skin.

And Talia herself…Talia could feel herself changing. And it wasn't a change for the worse, either. It was a change for the better. She was getting stronger and stronger each day, with each victim brought to make her Jonathan stronger…and it eased the pain she long felt for months. No one would ever know that she had been the one behind the "murders", or that Jonathan Crane was indeed alive. Not even Bruce - or Batman.

Jonathan changed with each man's blood fed to him, unseen by her for her sake, as he'd insisted. She'd seen worse in her lifetime, but he persisted. The muscles and sinews received more of the color red as they should, and he was becoming more and more of a human being if still the walking, visceral thing of one's worst nightmare.

And she wondered what he had endured while he was in the hellish otherworld which he had been condemned to by her father.

She wanted the answers on this very day, which she paid him a visit in the crypt and brought him a bottle of water as he'd requested. It had been so long, he claimed, that he could taste anything, but she couldn't refuse. In her white blouse and black pants, she'd gone to the cemetery, this time taking Aiden with her but leaving him in the car with all the doors locked, given she wouldn't be here long, and gave the requested item for Jonathan. Placing the top between his fleshless red lips, he took a long sip of the colorless, fresh fluid, sighing as though he were in heaven, then looked up at her with hazed eyes.

"I can taste that," he whispered. "It's a long time since I've tasted anything."

 _Now's the time…I need to know what happened._ "Jon…you promised me you would tell me everything."

He sighed and lowered his eyes to the ground. Talia walked over to the old stoned coffin that had been abandoned for decades, it seemed, sitting down on the edge and ready to listen. "The night that it was all a mess in the Narrows," Jonathan began, "I found myself free and in the streets, ready to get home to you, but the bridges prevented that. However, while I was there, I ended up with my face shot with a Taster."

There was only one person to own such a self-defense mechanism that she knew of. "Rachel," she stated, looking off to the side and chewing her lip. Now she could safely add her to the list of people who made the path to her husband's slowdown to his ending path easier. _You shot him, he ended up staggering in the streets..._ She paused there when he continued; she would not pick up the train of thought until she heard more.

"It hurt like the Hell I would soon find myself in. But I managed to find myself a place to stay for the night; the original plan was to lay low until I figured out how to get back on track with my research, but I was conflicted about coming home because I couldn't endanger you and our son." He looked up at her, his eyes shining but not spilling tears. It broke her heart; he had wanted to come back to her but was unable to. "I encountered a servant of your father's who apparently had been following me everywhere I went, pulled a knife on me, and I found myself naked and in the room, but my hands held…the box." His gaze hardened worse than the Statue of Liberty. "The puzzle box."

"The Lament Configuration," Talia said. That thing which was mythicized to open the doors to heaven or hell had been found at the crime scene was currently back on display at the museum, but on tighter security display - or so she hoped. What did she have to worry about, though? Her father was dead. "You were forced to open it?" He nodded.

"He told me I walked into forbidden territory, and for that I had to pay the price. I opened the cursed thing. Opened the doors to the pleasures of heaven or hell. Once that was done, the Cenobites gave me an experience beyond the limits, a sensual experience beyond earthly pain and pleasure, in a universe I never believed in until now." He shook his head. "As I predicted, there was a completely different type of 'pleasure' in store for me: the Cenobites took _great_ pleasure in tearing my body to ribbons…the uncontrollable fear I experienced while under the influence of my own toxin, and the same fear I witnessed in my subjects everyday..."

Instantly, the vision flashed before her eyes: of Jonathan naked as the day he was born, hanging upside down and squirming like a worm on a hook as he struggled to get out of wherever he was, not wanting to be a part of something any longer even though he knew there was no way out.

And then, out of nowhere came _them_ : the hooks attached to the ends of hard iron chains that came out from the darkness and found their way to their easy prey… _Jonathan's flesh_ , vulnerable and unprotected, torn apart and gushing heavy torrents of blood, so red it could easily be fire truck red paint, except it wasn't…and his body, as the torture progressed, was beginning to be rotated in a clockwise motion…more gore spilling into the darkness…

And then it stopped.

Talia gasped heavily as she struggled for breathing properly, turning her head away in a feeble attempt to clear her mind of the God-awful vision. Except imagery like that would haunt her dreams and waking hours for a _very_ long time.

The feel of a hand clasping around hers, the sticky feeling of blood and pulpy meats and solid bone following. She looked up into Jonathan's crystal blues, his face devoid of any proper human facial expressions, but with the way his mouth was pursed into a thin, straight line, he was masking determination. "They won't get me back," he vowed, loud and clear, though lowered to a soft, musical octave that caressed her ears like velvet. "I'm going to live, and you're going to help me, yes?"

"Yes," Talia agreed, her momentary shock forgotten. "They'll never find us." She pressed her body up against his if not making direct contact in order to avoid receiving gore on her clean shirt. "Not in the _whole wide world_."

~o~

 _Oh, yes...victory is near._ He took an inhale of breath through his nose and let it out slowly, then he tried the same routine again with his mouth. He felt himself getting stronger each day, but being couped up in this place was taking a toll on his mental state that he wasn't sure much of what was going on in Gotham besides from what Talia told him. There was this painted, scar-faced fellow called the Joker on the loose, going to extremes like Ra's al Ghul had, and three people were dead: a Bat Man imposter, one judge brave enough to convict members of the mob, as well as the police commissioner. He was messing around with the city and ranting on about the Bat having to take off his mask and show the city who he really was. Jonathan almost wanted to laugh; what a sight _that_ would be.

By now it had come to mind, logically, that the Bat was someone who had to be immensely wealthy enough to afford all of those high-tech toys of his; to say someone was paying him was too simple. Once he got out of this place, he intended to see for himself and affirm these theories.

"When are you heading back?" he asked. She had a social life - a life that he himself had never and would never fancy - that he couldn't keep her from. Now that he also knew she and Wayne were no more than just friends, he wouldn't have to worry about him making a move on her, but to even think about it made him even more protective.

"In a few minutes," she answered, "but first..."

Jonathan frowned as he watched her open the door and leave; when it closed behind her, a mildly loud bang was heard, ringing throughout the rest of the mausoleum. Jonathan leaned back against the stoned coffin and stared off into the shadows of every corner. He let his mind be blank given there was nothing to do, until she came back - and with a bundle of blue in her arms. Jonathan felt his eyes widen, and a wave of enthrallment washed over him. Was this...?

"Meet our son, Aiden," Talia said softly, standing in front of him and holding out the squirming little one in her arms. He was afraid to drop their son, but she helped him; he held the baby's head upwards with his right elbow and his left lower arm beneath the rest so he cradled him. _Wonderful, to live dead in this place only for life to be placed into your arms - ironic, yet wonderful._ He had one more man to go, but right now as he looked into a pair of blue eyes mirroring his own, set in a soft and round face with wavy strands of dark hair, Jonathan smiled and looked up at his wife who had given this life - as well as given his own life back with her own blood spilled.

~o~

This city was in danger, and people died because of him. He had never even considered calling himself a coward until now. The Joker was playing him, wrecking this city he loved and was trying to save. And Jim Gordon was gone, one of the last good cops ever, but the city was in the hands of Harvey Dent now. But what did the Joker want with him? The clown didn't want anything logical, as Alfred put it, but to watch the city burn.

Seeing the woman standing before the glass windows boasting a fantastic view of all of the city and the amber lights made his heart leap as soon as Bruce walked inside his home. Getting back from Wayne Enterprises and out of the suit was surreal with everything on his mind. Knowing that he had no choice but to turn himself in and save the city from more deaths - as well as the woman he loved - Bruce looked away from Rachel's critical eye.

"Harvey called. He said Batman's gonna turn himself in."

He nodded, looking out at the night view. "I have no choice. It might not stop the Joker, but I have enough blood on my hands." _I was meant to save the city, not cause bloodshed. These people depend on me to do the right thing even if not all of them need my help. But EVERYONE needs it whether they ask or not._ He found himself looking back up at Rachel's face, blank but gentle and passive. She saw that he was right and yet she was fighting against it. She was couting on both him and Harvey, the man she was dating while waiting for his time as Batman to be done, to do the right thing. Well, maybe the time was now.

"You remember when you once told me..." Memories of standing outside the burned down Wayne Manor, their first kiss since they were teenagers, washed before his eyes, but then the beautiful moment ended when she told him they couldn't be together as long as Gotham needed Batman. "...that when the time came when I was finished, we'd be together." He was walking her way when he spoke. If she stood firm to her promise, he was more than willing to ask her to marry him and they could settle down into a normal life.

But she was shaking her head, almost too fast as if in protest. "Bruce, don't make me your one hope for a normal life," she begged. He almost called her hesitance sweet and irresistible, but at the same time, he didn't want to force her. She was everything to him.

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

He wanted to kiss her now, just because he wanted to knowing that she was still there for him, so to feel her lips against his - little tongue involved - made him at peace with the world. He wanted more of this, but it couldn't last. Nothing was ever the way he would ever want it to be, walking through hell to honor a commitment which begun long ago with losing the two people who gave life to him. The last thing he needed was to lose yet another person who meant the world to him. That included Lucius, Alfred, Miranda...and Rachel in front of him, in his arms. He wanted to hold her longer but couldn't. He needed to get back to Wayne Enterprises to get to work in hiding everything the best he could and then burn the rest of the papers and instructions. He was just unwillingly leaving Rachel for the door when she called him back.

"Bruce." He paused in his steps and turned to look back at her. "If you turn yourself in, they're not going to let us be together."

~o~

Talia hummed to herself when she put down Aiden for the night. He'd been really well-behaved lately, even when he first met his father who had yet to fully be regenerated. A few times after work she would drive to the cemetery and bring him so father and son could bond. Remembering how Jonathan first held him in his arms and that look on his face which could melt a mother's heart - and it did so on her, the mother of his child - the more Talia wished she could find someone else before the Cenobites came looking for Jonathan.

Being in the tomb was driving her husband insane, and she knew it. She wondered what he did in there while she was gone, but she couldn't stand the thought of him pacing back and forth or just sitting there, or maybe screaming and talking to himself. But now that she thought back on the task at hand, she already knew who the perfect man was, but acquiring him would be harder than intended.

She was just leaving the room when the doorbell rung. _Who could that be?_ she wondered as she moved to answer it. "Bruce!" she exclaimed, shocked to even see him here. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since last week. Rachel was dead, killed in an explosion planned by the Joker. Dent was in the plan, too; he and his girlfriend trapped in two separate locations so a choice was given between the two of them.

Harvey Dent was gone, too. All over the news, it was said that the Batman had done it, when in reality, the Joker had twisted Dent's mind and turned him into a vengeful half-faced man who took care of those responsible for his fall and Rachel's death, even kidnapping Jim's family and tried to kill his young son to show him what it was like to lose the person you loved most. Bruce had told her this before he stopped talking altogether and stopped coming into the office. She wanted to call him and check on him since they were still friends after all, but Alfred had told her he was refusing all forms of contact. _Rachel's death hit him hard,_ she thought. If he was feeling how she did when she first lost Jonathan, then she knew how he felt. But he was shutting everyone out.

But now he was standing in her doorway and looking at her. His hair was slightly disheveled, growing traces of a mustache and small beard, but at least he smelled like he was keeping himself in shape. But she noticed how he was wincing and leaning forward slightly. The fall that killed Harvey Dent had done it to his knee. "Miranda." His voice was slightly rough, but not in Batman's gutteral growl; he apparently hadn't spoken for awhile...and then she _smelled_ the whiskey on his breath. Had he been DRINKING?

"You look great," he said, nodding at the dress she wore. She was sleeveless in a high-low dress streaked with colors creating the illusion of desert skies; the simple look and feel of it was so light and airy that she felt like she was really nude. But Talia stared at him and leaned slightly to her side in the doorway; Bruce was here because he'd been drinking. If the loss of the love of his life had hit him that hard enough to drink that he had to get Alfred to drive him over here, then Talia had to do something and try to get his head straight.

"Bruce, you need some help from me, and you need it now."

He grunted and looked to the ground, nodding as though that was the best he could do for lack of words. "Yeah, I _want_ you."

 **Since Rachel's death really impacted his heart and mind very much after TDK, I wondered what he did in the early days after the movie, long before TDKR, but since this is cannon and Talia is in the picture as well as his life, I thought perhaps him getting drunk and stumbling to her seemed appros. It might have been clear he'd been harboring secret feelings for Talia - Miranda, to him - and the alcohol is bringing it out into the open.**


	16. Unfaithful

Chapter Sixteen

Unfaithful

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bruce had just said - and Rachel was gone, he was drinking...! Her thoughts were clear but not in a straight line at the moment. She wouldn't let him into her house, not with Aiden asleep. She knew that if she panicked and lost it, things would not go over well. "Bruce, you can't come in. Aiden is asleep, and I have to get you back to the penthouse." She moved for her keys beside the door and quickly came back before he could come in, taking his arm and helping him down the stairs. _How did he even get up here without stumbling and bruising himself?_ she wondered as she painstakingly but patiently brought him down to the end of the stairs where Alfred and the long black limo were waiting. The butler had a somber expression, mouth in a tight line.

"I offer my apologies, Mrs. Crane," he said as he opened the back door for her to help the muttering billionaire in first. "He hasn't...taken Rachel's departure well, and I know how he feels. I loved Rachel because she grew up in the Wayne household with him, until the Master and Mrs. Wayne were killed. She and her mother, the maid, left not long after." Talia nodded wordlessly, knowing the story but wanting to hear anyway, for the sake of this kind old man and his charge in the car. Who was currently leaning against the door and pressing his forehead against the glass window. "I was hoping you would be the one to help him, but he has refused all forms of contact, so I was surprised when he suddenly asked for you." Alfred frowned then. "Until I smelled it."

 _So did I._ "How about making him some coffee?" she suggested, getting into the car and sticking her head back out when he answered her.

"I offered, but he didn't answer, instead demanded for you."

 _Demanded...sounds like the drinking is making him think things he shouldn't...or perhaps bringing out how he REALLY feels._ Her face heated as well as her heartbeat picking up, and her stomach tingled with butterflies, but this wasn't the way Jonathan would make her feel. It seemed like Bruce was finding a way to cope with Rachel's death, but alcohol wasn't right. It turned a good man into a complete scoundrel, and he was too good for that.

"Please, Bruce, youll get sick like that," Talia scolded as she helped him sit up from leaning forward. "I'm going to help Alfred make some coffee when we get to the house." He moaned and leaned into her; whether it was unintended or not, she didn't know. Then she heard the sound of his nostrils taking in air; he was smelling her perfume.

"Mmmm..." he rumbled against her shoulder, the sound vibrating her nerves. She shivered but tried to gently push him off.

"Bruce, please, not until we get to the house."

The drive to his penthouse seemed like forever, with him constantly moaning and closing his eyes, leaning backwards against his seat instead of into her. Alfred looked back into the rearview mirror a few times to check on him that way, but besides what they said before leaving her apartment, there wasn't much of a conversation. Talia leaned against the window and sighed; how could bad from here could this night get?

She and Alfred went on either side of Bruce to help him get to the elevator and then on the topmost level, his weight starting to take its toll on Talia's body even when the butler abandoned their sides to put the keys into the front door's lock and open for them. Bruce was hoisted into his home and in the direction of his room, where they deposited him onto the bed, and by that time, he was sighing with relaxation. Talia had drank very little herself in her life, Jonathan little to none unless a special occasion, but if she ever needed a wake-up call, coffee was the answer even if it didn't always work. Staring down at Bruce's prone form for a little while longer and silently sympathizing with her friend, she didn't hear Alfred's words, and then his hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump slightly and halfway turn to face him. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "what did you say, Alfred?"

"I'm going to make the coffee now. Would you like something, too?"

"No, thanks." She looked back down at Bruce and sat down at the foot of the bed. Alfred nodded and left them alone, and her mostly to her thoughts. The Joker was now put away in Arkham given he was too insane for prison, especially with what happened at GCPD the same time Dawes and Dent were kidnapped and held hostage; it was the clown's plan to be caught and imprisoned so he could reclaim the mob's bank CEO. Now Gotham was trying to clean up the mess made, but that also meant it no longer needed Batman because he was now called the murderer of the "great Harvey Dent". Talia had been to the funeral, seeing it overdone with white flowers ranging from lilies to roses, hydrangeas and sweet peas, lilies of the valley and so forth - overtly done for mourning, peace and remembrance of their beloved hero... _fallen hero,_ Talia's brain whispered. But Gotham would never know the true story about Harvey, for their own good, and as a result, Bruce sacrificed his life as Batman - and possibly his own heart and sanity - for that good. Suffering constructed character, after all.

The position Bruce was in was sprawled, his body twisted at an angle so his head was tilted to his right, face halfway away from her and almost asleep. She shook her head; he wasn't going to sleep in that position well tonight if he wanted to wake up sore and with a headache. Talia stood up and took him by both legs to drag him down the bed further and then moved to straighten his torso so his hip didn't stiffen - but as soon as her hands were leaving, her left wrist was suddenly grasped firmly with Bruce's left hand which had shot up so suddenly she didn't see it coming despite her quick sights and reflexes.

"Bruce, what -!" She found herself dragged on top of him and his arms wrapped around her body, trapping her to him. She struggled, but he was much stronger than her and reversing their positions so he was on top of her, his legs on either side of her waist and pinning her down. He was out of his mind if he wanted her to show his inner lust for her, and this was wrong. He would never do this to her if she didn't want it, and his drinking was making him this way as a negative coping mechanism. "Bruce, you don't know what you're doing..." Talia was cut off by the feel of his mouth on hers. "Mmph!" she uttered. His lips were soft yet firm, not unpleasant, but they weren't her husband's. She tried to shove him off with her hands on his chest; he finally pulled his face apart then so she could speak to him. "Bruce, what about her? Don't you feel like you're being...unfaithful to her?" _As I'm feeling the same about Jon._

His face fell then; good thing he was still sort of aware of his actions and words. "I do, but tonight, I -"

"Tonight, Master Wayne..." The voice of Alfred forced him to jump back and off of Talia so she could scramble into a sitting position and slide off the bed, away from him. "...you relax and drink your wake-up refreshment..." He nodded to the steaming coffee cup in hand. "...and I beg you to respect your dear friend." He gave Talia another apologetic glance and shook his head. "You have had too much tonight."

Talia glanced back to see Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed and lowering his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Miranda," he murmured. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

"You've had too much to drink, as we both said," she said firmly. "Perhaps I should get going tonight and check back tomorrow when you're sober. I'm sorry, Alfred." She stalked out without another word, but stopped when he called her back.

"I should drive you home, Miranda," he offered, "as soon as we get Master Wayne in for the night." She saw what he was talking about as soon as she saw Bruce suddenly passed out on the bed. Hesitantly walking over and seeing his eyes actually closed showed he would remain so for the rest of the night. Sighing, she agreed and took the coffee cup into her hands, setting it on the black nightstand so she could start with Bruce's legs instead of at the top just to be safe, while his butler situated him straight and then brought the covers into place. Coffee went to waste, but he could always have it in the morning, right?

"He seems to...secretly have a fondness for you," Alfred said as soon as they were in the limo.

"So I noticed, but the whiskey did its 'wonders'," she answered, looking down at her lap. "You were right to have him come to me in spite of it."

"I'm sorry he had to behave the way he did." The butler was always at his best to avoid using the correct, sometimes slang terms for an inapporpriate act of any sort. "But honestly, he isn't willing to move on from Rachel. Before she died, she left him a note and said she chose Harvey Dent over him. But I spared him the agony of a broken heart by burning that letter. To keep his will stronger. She had said that she was sorry for letting him down, but to keep his faith in the people of Gotham."

Talia nodded mutely and smiled softly, looking up at him then, but it faded when he added, "Perhaps when the time comes, you might be the one to help him fully move on from Rachel's demise."

~o~

 _He was on top of her, that familiar feeling she had missed so terribly - his lithe yet strong body over hers as she had been over him during their very first night together: he was over her not in the domineering sense, but to ensure her that everything was fine, and it was just the two of them. He was just as she remembered, that soft, delicate face set with a pair of glacier eyes_ _filled with lust, malice, fear, all in one, but tender and loving at the same time. His soft pastel lips bore down, meeting hers and sending the feeling that had been ripped from the two of them so long ago - a year hadn't been that long, but it had felt like an eternity - and it thrummed through their bodies like energy surging through the main power source. She was ready to become one with him…_

 _But then it changed._

 _The sooner his body was beginning to mold itself with hers, she felt it - a mass of stickiness and pulp, too inhuman and too…she couldn't find the words to describe it, but her body was soon covered with a stickiness that she had to open her eyes and see what it was - or rather,_ who _it was._

 _She found herself bathed in blood, the glimmering white silk sheets amassed with it, surreal and nightmarish. And a face of red and white that made her stomach rise was staring her down with the same pair of blues that she had so adoringly gazed into moments ago…but she did not feel any safer. They would never be safe as long as he was like this…_

~o~

These nightmares were taking a toll on Talia, but this time - unlike all those other times when she would wake up to Aiden screaming for his mother - the baby was peaceful tonight. Her body was aching with heat and throbbing with pleasure that she wished she could reach down below and finger herself off, but long ago, masturbation wasn't an option and wasn't now.

She wanted Jonathan to do this for her.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was throwing off her nightgown and redressing into the Sahara-themed dress from earlier; perhaps it was because she wanted him to see her in this dress, but no bra. She wanted to be free-flowing and without a care in the dark hours of the night. She was wide awake and didn't care. Tomorrow was a Saturday for her. She had nowhere to be that particular day, so perhaps she could sneak tomorrow to find the next and final for Jonathan.

Traffic was less at this time of night, but by the time Talia arrived at the cemetery, she remembered Bruce's earlier, drunken brash behavior and shivered. Should she tell Jonathan how she felt when her own friend did that? Her reason would be because the kiss made her feel unfaithful to the man she loved; if Bruce ever got out of his faze sooner, he would feel the same over Rachel just by kissing another woman. _It was just a kiss, nothing more. Jonathan wouldn't have to know if it was just that. It wasn't like you actually cheated on him._ So it was settled, but it still made her unnerved.

She found the crypt and wasted no time in running up to it and opening the door. As soon as it was closed, she shrieked when slimy, fleshless hands grabbed her and one hand slapped over her mouth to silence her. "Who are you?" the voice hissed into her ear, angry at being disturbed.

"It's me," she said, her voice muffled through his fingers, which parted so she could speak louder. "Jon, it's me."

"Talia." He released her so she could turn around and look at him. She had brought her flashlight with her and turned it on to lay it on the crypt, the beam facing them both so they were illuminated by the light. He frowned at her being here so late at this time. "What are you doing here? Did you find someone?"

She shook her head. "I had a dream that...made me come here. It was us, and...the way we used to be together." Her cheeks heated and flushed, but she wasn't ashamed. "I missed us..."

"I know what you're trying to tell me." His pale eyes ghosted over her form, a small smile forming. "I have, too, but...I fear hurting you."

She looked over his unclothed red body and felt more concern than he was. She was actually afraid of him hurting more given he had no protective shell yet. At the same time, the vulnerability between them was a turn on for her. If she couldn't make love with him that way, then how about him putting his fingers to her sweet spot between her legs. "You don't have to...that way," she said softly. "What about your hand?" Talia was removing her dress so fast he didn't answer her in time. Showing she was naked underneath save for her nude-colored bikini, Jonathan's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, which widened when her lower area was revealed to him. Her flesh was attacked gently by the cold air of the tomb, the nerve vibrations shooting straight to her arousal. She walked up to her husband, this time pressing her exposed body to his and risking coverage of gore over her body. She didn't bother bringing in the towel she left in the car; nothing mattered to her but him.

"Embrace me again, my love."

His breaths were faster in pace and almost rasping. "Lay down on the coffin and spread your legs." The command was gentle but mildly rough. Talia turned and walked over, climbing on top and laying on her back, her knees bending on the edge and lined evenly, thighs spread as he wanted. She felt some of her nectar drip out and onto the age-old stone beneath her body. Jonathan's eyes were on her all this time, coming to stand before her and pressing his hips against her knees, hands moving to caress her thighs. Wet heat - not _her_ wet heat - left trails over her skin and stopped at the sensitive places where her thighs met her pelvic region. She shuddered involuntarily; to even think that she was sort of making love again to her undead husband was bordering on sinful. But no one was here to disturb them.

His hands continued again, exploring her body again and stopping at her breasts, his fingers flicking over her nipples until they were hard, and then he continued to play and fondle with her breasts before her cries were too much for him that he decided to bow his head and kiss the valley between her breasts, tongue leaving a trail of blood over her skin, down over her stomach and finally reaching its destination. The fire of rapture caused her body to arch up and her hands to grasp either side of the lid of the coffin she laid on. To _feel_ his tongue and lips on her again was too much. How come she never thought of _this_ place for their rare but amazing adventures in the past?

 **The saying "embrace me again, my love" came from a favorite erotic classic of mine, "Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love". Nothing but some fiery, bloody love in the end. But don't go away yet. ;)**


	17. Resurrection

Chapter Seventeen

Resurrection

He moaned when she climaxed in his mouth; blood had been left to dry in the soft curls of the place he had been, and the remainder of her tasted so sweet on his tongue. It had been so long since he was with her this way, and once he got his whole body running again like a normal, living human being, he would have her in bed again like they used to.

Jonathan watched her writhe in the remainder of her ecstasy and stood back, still licking his lips. Then, once she got herself together, she stretched so her bones popped and stood. Her whole front was trailing with blood that he wondered if anyone would notice. _They won't,_ his mind finished for him as the dress covered it all up. He smiled at her when she did. "Tomorrow is the day, isn't it?" he asked. _The day I return, the day I get back to work - and the day my family is together again._

Talia nodded as she grabbed her flashlight. "I drop Aiden off with Bruce, then I'll go out for awhile and find exactly the one I was looking for," she answered. At the mention of Wayne, he gritted his teeth. Seeing this, she frowned. "Jon, don't do that," she begged, walking up to him. "It's only a few hours. I'll give him the excuse of a...personal business meeting, that's all. He'll be sure to buy it."

"It's not that," Jonathan said. "I just don't know about even being friends with him. I've had more time to dwell on this." _He's lost that bitch whom he loved but could not have, so who knows if he's fallen madly for my wife so soon. I know men like him; I was a psychologist and still am in the heart._

"Look, we'll talk about this _after_ I bring the last man here," she promised, moving up and kissing him briefly, getting more of his blood on her lips and staining them almost like lipstick. He had to admit it flattered her skin, even though it was HIS blood. "Good night, my love."

~o~

His headache had stopped thanks to the Aspirin, but Alfred was impassive, and he knew why. Last night he was a wreck, but he had a right to be. Rachel was gone, and a part of him had died with her, never to be replaced again. She was gone, and he felt like he had to blame himself for it. He should have known Joker would change the addresses, but it was too late. He would never forgive himself for any of this.

 _"Did I bring this on her?"_ he'd asked Alfred that early morning, choosing not to change out of his suit, scattering pieces of it on the floor of the penthouse for the hell of it. He was in too much turmoil to even care about anything else in the world, not even hungry for the breakfast his butler had prepared. _"I was meant to inspire good, not...madness. Not death."_

 _"You_ have _inspired good. But you spat in the faces of Gotham's criminals, and you'd think there'd be some casualties. Things are always going to get worse before they got better."_

 _"But Rachel, Alfred..."_

 _"Rachel believed in what you stood for; what_ we _stand for. Gotham needs you now."_ He'd handed Bruce his fallen mask, but as he took the black graphite constructed cowl and stared into the depthless black face, he'd shaken his head.

 _"No, Gotham needs its true hero, and I let that_ murdering _psychopath -"_ he'd spat. _"- blow him half to hell."_

 _"Which is why, for now, they're going to have to make do with you."_

 _"She was going to wait for me, Alfred. Dent doesn't know...he can_ never _know."_

He had waited forever for her only to lose her in the end. He had been forever faithful to her, so to lose her like he lost his parents was like his own heart had died altogether. He'd closed himself off from the rest of the world, including Lucius and Miranda - and the latter he had almost taken himself out onto. He'd thought drinking would make him feel anything other than a broken shell beyond repair, but his mind was clear despite the heavy weight and uncontrollable release of a desire he never had before. He almost got onto Miranda before Alfred stopped him in time. He owed her an apology, and at the butler's agreement, if silent lecture.

He was just fixing himself up - and this time he meant cleaning himself up - when Alfred called and announced Miranda was here. His body vibrated with excitement, but also nervousness. Last night he was extremely brazen and irresponsible. Miranda might not want to see him and was here to tell him so, that she wouldn't want to speak to him for awhile. However, he might as well be overthinking this; he wanted to make things up for her by asking her to bring her son and spend the day with him for the day.

"Well, look who's here," he cooed when baby Aiden was placed in his arms. That innocent little face was smiling up at him and cooing, little hands reaching out as if to grab for him. His mother was smiling but said nothing when Bruce took the baby. If this was how it felt - an indescribable warmth and pleasantness - then he'd wanted to be a father, but now that dream seemed so distant and far away. "Long time no see, buddy."

"I have something to run first, before we spend some time today."

Bruce frowned when he looked up at her, looking her over briefly. Her lovely body was flaunted by a flattering ruched red top and tight dark jeans and boots, the charm necklace glittering around her neck. _Beautiful._ "What kind of business?" he asked, thinking how strange it was that she had told him at the last minute; she was always so busy outside of work as of late, usually dropping the baby off with him for "errands", except not since before the recent events with Harvey Dent's death, and her friend and scientist Evey Harmon who had transferred out of Gotham for New York City to apply for a teaching position at the university.

"Meeting with John Daggett. Let's say I have some...ways of getting him off our backs over trying to absorb his company with yours." Starting soon after his decision to hide away from the world, the rival Daggett Industries who cared only about money and buying power from others had thought because the Wayne CEO was hiding away, he could try and knock him off. It was no surprise because long before he returned to Gotham from the East, John Daggett tried to do the same while Earle was in charge. But what was Miranda's plan? _And why at a time like this? Something doesn't sit still._ Bruce knew he had to leave the house now and find out for himself, but he had to be discreet about it; Batman no longer had his day, so Bruce Wayne had to make up for it. "You will watch Aiden, won't you?" she asked when he didn't answer. Bruce perked up and nodded.

"Oh, uh, yes. I will." He cracked a nervous grin when she looked at him as though trying to read him through. Her gaze was intense, one he had faced in many of his enemies. Something did not sit right indeed.

"Alright," she said with a smile then, leaning in to kiss her son's forehead and then looking back up at Bruce. "Oh, and I almost forgot. I'm glad you're feeling better after last night, Bruce." There was a slight trace of a reprimand in her tone, and he supposed he deserved it. "But before I leave, do you feel like helping me bring in some of the groceries I took the liberties of bringing?"

"Of course," Bruce answered, handing the baby to Alfred, who starting bouncing him up and down and taking him into the kitchen. The boy's face looked over the old butler's shoulder at him, blue eyes wide. Seeing his father in him was unsettling especially to anyone else who had seen him; Bruce admitted he felt sorry for the boy, being the son of a long-gone doctor turned sociopath. But the resemblance of Jonathan Crane wasn't what sent him back to life.

 _This is it; I still have spare tracking devices, so perhaps I can stick one underneath her car and track where she's going..._

~o~

"Miranda Crane." The man himself looked up from the newspaper in the same white-walled, brightly lit bar she'd picked up her very first victim weeks before and smiled unpleasantly at her. He always looked that way at her even when they coolly spoke business matters, like the clean energy project still underway. Daggett called it all a vain waste of time, but she didn't miss his glances. But he had no idea _she_ was marking him as a dog would mark territory. He would taste the filth of death sooner than he'd wanted.

"You know, I was surprised by the call this morning, even if it was last minute notice for me. Eager to talk to me in private about your…save-the-world vanity project? In which Wayne might be on the verge of throwing away the investment."

Unfazed by the insult - or rather, hiding it so well - Talia gave him a lopsided, charming grin. "Correction, Mr. Daggett, I had another proposition in mind. Between the two of us."

The sooner he leaned into her, the sooner she smelled traces of champagne on his breath. He might have been drinking before he came here. "No need to hide it from me, Miranda. I saw the way you were looking at me. Given it's been a year since your crooked husband died. I believe…" His face split into a demented grin. "…you see me as a possible replacement. How can I say no? Not bad of an idea to find someone else to grow old with, to surrender your identity to, and to give your baby boy a father figure. Which surprises me because I'd have thought it'd be Wayne, given how such good friends you two are," he said with a lopsided smile matching hers. "But I guess just friends don't _always_ turn out to be more."

And that was _exactly_ what would have happened: her giving everything she had to him and lower her status to the stay-at-home housewife, tending to his every needs, being submissive in every way. But he didn't know what destiny awaited, once more. "That's what I had in mind, Mr. Daggett -"

"John. I believe we can be on first name basis now, _Miranda_." She heard the droll on her name, and it made her sick.

"John," she returned, with little emphasis, "I think we can start by going away from this place to...somewhere more quiet. Just the two of us, and you must tell… _no one_." She leaned in to whisper the last part to excite his nerves and sense of adventure. "Where would the fun be if anyone knew of any secret, desirous fantasies - or any meetings we have?"

That sickening smile remained in place. "You're right. Where _is_ the fun in that?"

~o~

He had been extra careful with placing the tracer beneath the trunk of her car while carrying the last load of groceries, but where he found out she'd gone while carefully camouflaging himself amongst traffic while following her - _Damn it, she LIED to me!_ Bruce had tracked her first to the bar and then down to the CEMETERY of all places. Miranda did not just meet with John Daggett; she had _taken_ him to the bural grounds! That wild and flashy look on her face was everything a party girl should have, but why would Miranda be bringing their rival to this place? And John Daggett was notorious for having girls on his arm with less honor than Bruce Wayne, though the latter's purpose was cover image wise. Daggett, as much as it wasn't his business, was no more honorable than he was.

He would remain by and watch before he acted.

And then, as soon as Daggett's back was turned, Miranda's face contorted into that of contempt and revving Bruce's suspicious engine even louder and faster than before.

~o~

 _Clothes for him in the trunk of the car, a body bag for the other "him"…and then it's finished._ She felt her face split into a grin when she did the honors of being the driver to their "secret destination", and when Daggett asked her what the smile was for, she cleverly lied and said she looked forward to their "first time".

As soon as Jonathan was wholly rejuvenated, she would drive him to the nearest motel and check him in given Bruce could easily find out she was housing her long, thought-dead husband and attack her as to what he was doing alive, what she'd been up to, and so on. She wouldn't let him do that to her, but once he discovered the truth, then her son would be taken from her and who knew what would happen to her. It would be either Arkham by reasons of insanity, or Blackgate for life. Jonathan might be taken back to Arkham, away from her for the last time. Their son would grow up never knowing both parents, for sure this time. But all she could do was pray that there would be none of that today. She would not suffer like her father did in the end, as much as she loathed to dwell on that.

~o~

John Daggett…so that was who this latest unfortunate guinea pig was. Jonathan felt his face twist into a sneer as he watched the money-hungry businessman enter his "resting place" with his sweet wife - his Talia, beautiful and casual in a red blouse tucked into dark blue jeans, and he could see the charm necklace he gave her glittering around her neck. It pleased him greatly that she brought the gold-maker of all people today.

The look he was giving Talia fueled the rage that festered with the hunger for his blood.

"So…where do we start, Miranda?" he heard the snake ask, and he hissed to himself. And like the two before him, his back was facing Talia as he put his hands on his hips and took in his surroundings with a look of contempt, wondering why she had picked a graveyard crypt of all places for a tryst, failing to notice anything suspicious - such as Talia's devious, wicked smile as she drew her knife from her pocket, unsheathing from its handle.

"Let me start this way." At her words, Daggett turned around and barely had time to scream before the blade slashed through the air, and within seconds there was a spray of crimson in the air that Talia had time to duck. "You won't be missed, John Daggett. And you'll have to take my secret to your grave: I am Talia al Ghul, daughter of global national terrorist Ra's al Ghul, the Demon Head. Wife of Jonathan Crane, whom the world has misjudged so severely, and whom my father wrongfully took from me to fuel his own powers and pride. And whom I am offering your flesh and blood to so he can restore himself…and so I can have in my arms again."

Daggett was feebly reaching out to her as his other hand failed to stop the blood from leaving him. "B-bi…" he rasped out.

"No, she is not a bitch," Jonathan snarled as he stepped out from the shadows and stalked over to the man. Daggett's eyes widened at the sight of him, falling onto his back and flailing as thought trying to get away from him. "Talia," he said, "go now."

~o~

So it was done. Resurrection was complete. Within moments, her Jonathan, her husband would be back with her. Smiling, Talia walked out of the crypt and made the brief journey down to her car for the clothes she'd packed for him. She pulled her keys from her pocket and was about to open the trunk when she felt the cold feel of a gun barrel pressed to the back of her neck. She stiffened; who could that be? And then she heard the voice of a woman she was familiar with all too well.

"Turn around. Slowly. And do no try to resist me."

"Rebecca." She felt panic swell inside her as Bruce's ex faced her; they'd broken up just not long after Rachel died. How did she find her? She had to have followed her, but _why_? "What in God's name are you doing here? And what's with the gun -?"

Rebecca laughed, but it was not _her_ laugh. It sounded like a man had taken over her body and assumed total control. "I have some unfinished business with you - and your husband - _Talia_."

Her heart stopped cold altogether. Everything inside her was frozen solid as the Arctic Circle. "Father."

 **Yup, Ra's al Ghul is still alive and in another body. :D Now things are tougher than ever, besides Bruce close to catching on.**

 **I've absolutely (no surprise) hated John Daggett from the get-go, so to off him soon was like sinking my teeth into a delicious piece of meet. ;) And now that Jonny boy is back, what happens now?**


	18. Demons

**Events of the "Hellraiser" movie's near-ending occur nearly the same as they have in the film, albeit reversed. Enjoy.**

 **Note: None of the details of what the title implies belongs to me but to the novel and the websites - including Wikipedia - which I did my rsearch on for the Cenobites. You'll know when you see them. :)**

Chapter Eighteen

Demons

"It's me, daughter. Did you think I would not return, hmm? I am immortal, after all."

Talia knew better than to say that she'd thought he'd died in the crashing of the Wayne Enterprises railway train, because yes, Ra's al Ghul's methods _were_ mysterious, not always mere parlor tricks. But to enter the body of another human being was an entire affair beyond this world. "How did you find us?" she dared to ask.

The voice of Rebecca appeared to be no more, as the one belonging to her father had taken over on its own will. He chuckled and shook his head. "I've been watching you all this time, Talia. And yes, I know of the seed you spawned from him, and your friendship with Bruce. But don't worry," he added at the look she gave him, "I won't hurt either of them. The three of you are too valuable to me. However…I would advise you to come with me if you want to save your lover."

"He's my _husband_ ," Talia spat.

Ra's rolled his eyes - _Rebecca's_ eyes. "Just do as I say and get into the car, and take us to where I tell you."

~o~

 _"Rebecca, what are you doing here?"_

 _"Rebecca isn't here anymore."_

 _"E-excuse me? Who - Ra's."_

 _"I see you've recognized my voice, Bruce. But you really have taken a blind step towards interfering with forces beyound your comprehension."_

 _"What are you talking about, Ra's? And how are you still alive, in the body of Rebecca? You died that night."_

 _"Many forms of immortality, my young pupil."_

 _"I'm not your pupil anymore."_

 _"No, but you still have a lot to learn. But right now, I don't have the time. I have unfinished business that doesn't involve you at the moment..."_

He groaned when he came back to consciousness, but his vision was dark at first and then cloudy. He sat up but didn't bother to rub his eyes or his throbbing skull. Blinking and looking around, he saw that he had been lying on the ground, his head against the side of the Lamborghini. And he was still on the grounds of the cemetery. But Miranda's car was nowhere in sight.

 _Ra's - Rebecca - kidnapped her! He's back, in the body of Rebecca; he's been hiding out all this time...how did all of this happen? And what does Miranda have to do with anything?_ He stood up and dusted himself off; he wore a black leather jacket and t-shirt and jeans. He assumed Miranda and Daggett had gone off to somewhere private for whatever she'd planned...perhaps she wasn't who or _what_ he thought she was after all.

If that was the case, he felt utterly betrayed more than he'd ever been in his life.

~o~

"The museum," Talia gasped as soon as they came to one of the places she helped house the most valuable of artifacts for the world and preserve so they lived forever on display... _and where the box is back where it belongs. Apparently, Father did a brilliant job in outrunning it once again._ The security guards were out from knock-out gas, or perhaps something else more sophisticated. Her father had brought her here for a reason that she would soon find out.

What made matters worse was that she was, as she was led inside, dodging constantly moving cameras with the gun pointed at the back of her head, which she thought was very obvious and tame compared to the all-powerful Ra's al Ghul's more secretive methods that the world had ever seen. She was worried, for only a moment, someone coming in just like that and seeing them - the sun was starting to leave the sky, after all - but her father would always drag them somewhere to hide. _So this is what has become of the once almighty Demon Head: a spiritual parasite limited to conventional weaponry and cheap parlor tricks._ Finally they were at the site of the exhibit of the Lament Configuration, and there were four guards who had been standing guard but now knocked out. He'd done all of this before he came to her; he was good at picking a time where no one would catch up right away. Today was one of those days where the exhibits were all closed, and no one would check them until the day was over.

"My God…Evey," she gasped when she looked down at the bloodied corpse of her friend and colleague. Evey's throat had been slashed open so she bled to death, her eyes wide with fear being the only emotion she ever showed to the world before she left it. Her father's immortal spirit had taken over the body of Bruce's former short-time flame and then wound up murdering Talia's best friend who had been safe and far away from Gotham - all for a box that opened doors to the pleasures of heaven or hell - _Hell in this case._ She felt her legs wobble and threaten to give way beneath her, but then she felt a hand on her arm that held her up and push her against a nearby wall, the door slamming behind as a result. _Perfect, now we'll get attention. What does he want, to get us both locked up now?_

"No, don't mourn her," Ra's told her with false sympathy. "She was dead long before I touched her."

Talia found his face - _Rebecca's_ face - leaning up close against hers. She sneered despite the small amount of helplessness that she only felt but her body and will wouldn't allow to dominate. "Bastard," she hissed. "You murdered her. Like you did to Jonathan."

He laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "She was coming into Gotham for a short-lived visit, to meet up with her old friend - you," he said with a heartless smile. "I saw her as the perfect start. I have lost everything, ever since Wayne defeated me, but I patiently waited until the time was right to come back for you; he is nothing more to me to finish on my own, but I know his time will come when my loyal followers will finish my work...knowing my own daughter would never do so." He bared his teeth in a horrible snarl, catlike. "You are my unfinished business, as is your husband. You turned your back on me, so by taking away your friend and soon Crane once more, I will have both you and the child on my side, so you will not escape me again. I can't imagine a better fate worse than death." Then the teeth-baring snarl changed to a broad grin.

"And as for Crane. No, I didn't directly kill him. He opened the gateway to Hell. He brought it on himself, should never have indulged in forbidden pleasures on the job. Especially with _my_ daughter."

"Get the HELL OFF OF ME!" Talia found it in her to bring her knee up and hit the vulnerable place between the legs, wishing it was an actual manly area to give more pain, but it would have to do. She allowed a grin to come to her face when Ra's doubled over, sensing that Rebecca was in pain, too, the pelvic bone suffering as much as a man's balls would. Taking advantage of what little time she had, Talia ran over to the glass case which bore the Lament Configuration, with its six gold-and-black intricate faces that masked a terrible secret within its dimensions. The thing that helped her father take her husband from her and break up their family. Her father wanted it back, but she would not let it happen. This was a life-and-death struggle now, and as against the rules as it was, she knew she had to take it away and hold it until she got her family far away from Gotham. She ran over to it and dove onto the glass, shattering it and toppling over with the shards and pedestal falling to the floor. Thank goodness she didn't get cut, and the box was right next to her. The red alarms blared louder than the ones in a fire department. She quickly snatched it up into her hands and stood, pausing when a single shouted word stopped her:

"NO!" She glared maliciously at Ra's' twisted features. "Put that down, daughter. You do not want to get hurt."

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "I am not your daughter, and you are _not_ my father. What kind of man marries a woman he claims to love and then leaves her to die in an underground prison in the middle of a wasteland? Who does acts as cruel as outcasting a man who served as the only male figure in her life when the man who made her never knew she existed most of her life? And most of all…" She took a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself down before finishing.

"Who repeats history by taking away the daughter's husband for his own pleasure and passion for power?"

"Bitch," Ra's hissed savagely, crouching low in tiger position - to hear him use the strong, insulting term for a female was a rarity in its own - and Talia magneted his movements in circular mode. "For the last time…give me the box."

 _This is it…this is your last card against him._ "No," she challenged. "If you want it…" She used her free hand to reach for the mini Taser she kept in the back of her jeans pocket. "…come and get me first."

Ra's al Ghul, in Rebecca's body, roared and charged for her. But she was more than ready when she activated the laser device and drew it the way she would draw a blade and sliced it through the air in a buzz, jabbing it directly into the abdominal area with the intention of no serious injury or permanent damage, but just to slow her enemy down while she made the escape out the front door and to her car that still awaited for her outside while the alarms were still blaring behind her. If anyone caught her on camera, she had to get away and back to Jonathan soon, and her only hope and risk rested within this cursed puzzle box on the front passenger seat beside her.

~o~

"Ahhh…" At last, he could feel it: the real, true form of pure human flesh on his body. Looking down, Jonathan saw that his body, naked as the day he was born, bore all the characteristics he'd had in his previous life, everything from his lean but still slender torso and hips, to limbs bearing more muscle than before, and the thick dark patch of hair around his length, currently limp between his thighs. His skin was glowing ivory white even though the direct sunlight hadn't touched it yet, and blood still lingered in smears on some sections. But Talia would take him home for him to clean and dress.

 _Home…_ He couldn't find it in his memory as to when the last time he'd actually lived in a real home. Someone was sure to spot him and then it would be out to the press, and he would be crucified and questioned as to how he was alive, then locked up as he should be - with the wolves that had once been his patients, and the fun would be had with them. Even his intelligent brain couldn't think of anything that would keep them away.

Jonathan looked down at the rotted, pus-oozing corpse that had once been money-hungry, prosperous businessman John Daggett. Who for years had lived off the _blood_ and _sweat_ of people less powerful than him. He scowled first, then smiled. Now he himself, someone less powerful prospect-wise than Daggett, had lived off _his_ blood and sweat to regenerate himself for the final time.

He needed a breath of air. His first smell of fresh air for the first time in a long time. It didn't matter that he wasn't wearing anything at the present; he just needed to take a look at the outside world from here.

However, no sooner had he started for the door did it open again, and he paused in his tracks. For a moment, he thought Talia had returned - where had she been all this time? - "Who are you?" he demanded, stepping behind the pillar that had been his hiding place as of late. The figure was a man, his silhouette shadowed in the front by the setting sun, but as soon as he stepped in - "Bruce Wayne," Jonathan stated, trying to remain calm inwardly but failed. How did he follow Talia here, find out...?

"Dr. Crane," the billionaire playboy answered, lips in a tight line. "I thought you were dead." He sounded disbelieved, incredulous.

"I was," Jonathan answered, remaining where he was and concealing his privacy. "If I told you the story, you wouldn't believe it. Why are you here?"

"Because of Miranda, your wife." Wayne's eyes fell to the corpse of Daggett, jaw parting slightly but otherwise unchanging. "What have you done here, and what was her part? What have you both been up to?" Jonathan almost laughed at the man's foolish questions; was he really that much a fool?

"Are you going to ask me so many questions before you help me find my wife, assuming that's why you're here?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"She was taken," Wayne answered, remaining where his feet were planted. "By my...ex-girlfriend who had the voice of a man, if you put it that way." His seriousness had vanished, replaced with a small amount of humor, but Jonathan didn't think this was funny. His wife had been _kidnapped,_ and he had to save her. Seemed he had to join with her friend, the billionaire orphan himself, if he had to get her back.

But WHO took her?

~o~

She had no idea why she thought of _this_ place of all places to begin with, an abandoned warehouse not too far from the city so she could try to solve the puzzle herself. It was a risky venture - and life-threatening - but lives were at stake. Her own…Aiden's… _and Jonathan._ For all she knew, Ra's could have gone back to the crypt once he'd regained control of himself after experiencing five hundred volts of electricity in his torso.

If that was the case, she needed to hurry.

The warehouse had once been the storage unit of Daggett Industries, but it was neglected for other intents and purposes, that snake who once ran it letting it go to waste such as it was. Well, it was a matter of time before they knew its CEO was missing.

Talia had viewed identical puzzles in her lifetime, most notably in Hong Kong and Morocco - but none could ever match this one. Sitting cross-legged on the filthy floor, surrounded by the high-to-low-and-so-forth stacks of boxes and crates filled with items and toys that had either been rejected, failed for good use, or otherwise forgotten, she focused her mind only on the box itself, her hair in a thick dark curtain over one shoulder, as she allowed her fingers to randomly wander over the various carvings, and then finally, there it was - five segments sliding upwards and spinning around clockwise, before settling down and forming a new shape: a star with uneven points unlike that of the classic version known to man.

Talia shrieked then when the feel of more than a thousand volts of lightening power surged from the now-heated surface of the object that flew out of her hands on its own and to the center of the vast circle she sat nearly outside of.

It was then that she noticed it - and heard it.

The circular light above her in the middle of the room dimmed, and beneath her, the tiled floor - namely the cracks - brightened and brightened beneath her, followed by the sound of a bell began to ring.

Talia felt her stomach begin to church ever so violently at the sound of that bell; there was no church near this part of Gotham, and it was too near to be from the one where her husband's body had been recovered by her and the police. _They're coming._

The sound of that unseen bell had to be coming through the very door - though unseen to the naked eye - that Lemarchand's box had been constructed to open. She was on the threshold of a new world, a province that was far away from the room she now stood in, looking down at the floor that began to brighten on its own as there was no light that turned on in this room, and steam rising from the cracks. From _Hell_.

The thought itself had made her breath quick. In moments, they would be here. The Cenobites. Sadomasochistic entities that lived in an extra dimensional realm, where they performed "experiments" in extreme sexual experiences.

And now, as the sound of the bell became louder, she was afraid. But it was too late to turn back now. Lemarchand's device was undone, and the final trick turned. No time for regrets. She'd risked everything to get up to this point. She had come all this way to save the lives of herself and her son - and bargain for the soul of the man who'd seduced her, desired her, and loved her since the moment they met with that of her immoral father's.

She looked up around her to see the blood - blood pouring red and vivid from beneath all the boxes and crates from unknown sources, gushing torrents and growing heavier like waterfalls over the various regions of the earth, forming pools of dark burgundy on the floor, the smell of it reaching her nostrils; it was both salty and rancid like rotting flesh. She felt like vomiting, but not here, and not now.

The sun lamp above her then shattered, followed by a great gush of wind that rattled her hair into her face, blinding her eyes but not all the way, as Talia dove for the center of the floor to make grab for the box…only to find that a heavily booted foot of black leather had found its place on top of the device, preventing her from ever claiming it for herself. She was on the verge of screaming when she looked up and saw _what_ the being was.

This - this _thing_ was not - and could _not_ be - human, for its body appeared to have been subjected to a severe form of bodily and ritual scarification; the face was peeled back to expose only the teeth, which clicked together nonstop as though it was the best way it could communicate. The thing removed its foot from the box and took one stride Talia's way and grabbed her before she had the chance to move away, turning her around so her back was against its leather-clad torso, holding her so she had no chance of running away. From experience, resistance only made it worse, so she just settled on a hoarse series of whimpers instead, unsure of what fate awaited her.

And then there was light before her eyes.

And there they stood: the other three of the Cenobites. Occupying this room where the wind blew from yet another unknown source, and blood was continuing to pour onto the floor without flooding the room. These creatures glowed like the Arctic glaciers: white, cold and brutal. It occurred to Talia then that she'd never once wondered what they would look like, because never in her wildest dreams had she ever considered coming to the place where she was now. Scars covered every inch of their bodies, the flesh cosmetically punctured and sliced. The smell of vanilla lingered in the air, but there was an undertone of the stench of decay. Their equally maimed faces bore no trace of feeling but insatiable hunger.

She had only a moment to describe the first to herself; it was massively sized, male clearly if actual gender seemed impossible to anyone else, and there was no voice to be heard from it, only the occasional lick of the lips with a bloated tongue. Its eyes were hidden by a pair of round sunglasses.

And then a voice brought her back from her reverie.

 _ **"The box. You opened it…we came."**_ This one had the voice of one of higher command, regal and hollow at the same time, but had it been of this world, Talia would have guessed it was of British origins. Every inch of this one's head - the leader, in the middle of the two - was tattooed with an intricate grid, and at every corner was a pin driven through and to the bone.

Talia was unsure how much these…extra dimensional beings would pick up on her if they had any more levels of high intelligence more than they did, so she decided to play innocent. For the time being. "It's just a puzzle box," she said calmly, standing relaxed against her captor, which she figured was the group's enforcer, restraining the victims.

 _ **"Oh, no,"**_ the leader spoke, the words slipping smoothly through the lips without a stutter or even slight mistake. _**"It is a means to summon us."**_

Now she was getting tired of being restrained, but her remaining strength insisted that she survive a little longer if she wanted to get out alive. She continued to ask the basic standard questions. "Tell me who you are."

These beings had not one ounce of emotion in them, these things with their flawless yet demolished flesh. Nevertheless, they provided the answers she needed, the leader speaking the most for them. _**"Explorers in the further regions of experience. Demons to some. Angels to others. You solved the box, we came. And now you must come with us."**_

 _"Yes…and taste our pleasures."_ The fourth and final of the four had taken its turn - _this_ one was female, the only one in the group. Her voice was soft, whispery and raspy unlike the leader's; her features were deeply sunken and not one trace of hair on her bald head; several wires peeled back the skin in the front of her neck, similar to a human woman's front vaginal opening. In an extremely disturbing way.

"I won't succumb…" Talia said, courage swelling in her. "…so if you could please allow this one to release me and let me explain."

The only indication of an agreement was the leader's simple, single forward incline of the head to let the "chatterer" ultimately release Talia to stand on her own free will. "I know who you are, and I know you've done this before, Cenobites."

Now she saw one trace of facial reactions: the leader's pitless black eyes narrowed to slits at her revelation of deceit. _**"Many, many times, child. Continue now, or your suffering to come will be legendary even in Hell."**_

She would not let someone beyond her existence intimidate her. Standing tall and level with them, "I am Talia al Ghul, daughter of the Demon Head, Ra's al Ghul. I trust you know who he is."

The female's eyes widened only slightly. _"Oh, yesssss…"_ she hissed, ever delightful as if in ecstasy.

"He took the man I loved from me to fuel his own ambitious, and tried to have me killed because I refused to live under his ruthless wing, killing innocent people just to cleanse the world of scum and villainy. I loved a man who worked under him, who is the father of my child, and it was no harm done. This man I speak of was innocent from the beginning, and yet my father gave him to you to open these doors to pleasures he longed to experience for himself."

 _ **"And who would this man be that you speak of?"**_ the leader demanded, his interest piqued at once, and Talia was more than ready to answer him.

"Jonathan Crane. He escaped you."

Rage and disbelief could be heard in the leader's tone. _**"Nobody escapes**_ **us** _ **."**_

"He did. I've seen him. He's alive, and I want him back with me, and that is why I summoned you," Talia protested.

A brief second of silence filled the room, save for the gushes of wind. And then the leader spoke again. _**"What does this have to do with**_ **you** _ **and your father, Talia al Ghul?"**_

 _Here it comes,_ she thought triumphantly, though the coldest part of her heart warned her that the worst would come sooner than much later. _The moment of truth._ "I can lead you to Ra's al Ghul, but he is in the body of another human being, and he killed someone else who meant so dearly to me. And when I find him, you can take him with you instead of me. And give me my Jonathan back to me. His body and soul and all."

 _ **"I want to hear Ra's al Ghul confess himself,"**_ the leader agreed, but although the female had not spoken, Talia knew that she was thinking the exact opposite of what the bargain was: they would wittingly take both Talia and Jonathan to Hell. _Jonathan_ back _to Hell, where he suffered for far too long._ _ **"Then, maybe…"**_ The leader's eyes had taken on a more demonic, more dangerous width. And his voice rose an octave with the words that nearly killed her heart altogether.

 _ **"WE'LL TEAR YOUR SOUL APART."**_

 **Thanks to research done for the descriptions of the Cenobites. :D And chapter one of their appearance in the novel. Their summoning was fun to do, and thanks to Clive Barker for the help.**


	19. Wrath

Chapter Nineteen

Wrath

Bruce thought he would lose his mind when the long thought-dead Jonathan Crane had told him the whole gruesome story, all of it too grim for words. He was used to handling anything in life, but the idea of an existence of a sort of Abrahamic Hell rule by leather-clad demons who lived off on torture and mutilation for their own pleasure...?! _And knowing that Ra's al Ghul has taken the form of a woman...and Miranda is really his DAUGHTER! T-Talia al Ghul, he said._

"Her blood brought me back," Crane explained, "and I'm trusting you with our secret because you're her friend if not mine. She's been taken by your...ex," he said with a small laugh. If Bruce were Batman at the present, he would not say one word to the criminal. For all he knew, Scarecrow might be back to his old tricks again - but how could he be sure? He was also beginning to now think Miranda - _no, Talia_ \- played a role in his fear experiments. But how could he turn them both in without any form of proof? And without blowing anything up? _They will never believe the fairytale of demons walking the earth, either. Seems I have to do this myself, unarmed and at risk._

"...and I wonder where they would go," Crane went on, "but I suppose Talia's apartment would be a start."

Bruce agreed, but Talia and "Rebecca" weren't there; if he let loose one little slip, much less a _hint,_ Crane would know that he had been Batman, the masked man who poisoned him with his own toxin. Who knew what form of a wrath he would receive before they found Talia safe and sound. He had no choice but to accept all of this because Jonathan Crane seemed anything but a teller of tales like this one; he manipulated, hid his true self from the world and cooperated with a man who fathered his wife - marrying said daughter had gotten him sold to the devil for it - and tried to destroy an entire city.

His other half of his mind reminded him Crane thought his employer wanted to hold the city to ransom; he had no idea what the League's true intentions were to begin with, and Bruce doubted Talia would ever tell him to risk the life of the man she loved and fathered Aiden. _Speaking of Aiden, he has to be kept safe until we put an end to this and sort the rest out later._

Talia wasn't at the apartment, but where did that leave? "I suppose scouting the city wouldn't hurt?" Crane asked sacrastically. Bruce finally turned his attention to him.

"I suppose not."

He did his best to keep to the speed limit, not wanting to be pulled over - _when did that ever stop you?_ \- and be caught with Jonathan Crane next to him, the man known as Scarecrow to everyone in Gotham.

Or perhaps getting pulled over was the least of his worries.

"The museum!" he exclaimed, staring at the swarm of police cars around the Museum of Antiquities. "What happened this time?" If he was right, maybe this had to do with the...Lament Configuration, which had been back on display after Dr. Crane's skinless body had been recovered from the Palisades a year ago. "Stay here," he ordered Crane before taking his keys out just to be safe and locking the car to keep him "safe". "Excuse me, Officer!" he called to the nearest police officer.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Bruce Wayne. I was driving around and wanted to know what was going on."

The guy laughed and shook his head before turning somber. "Well, an alarm went off, and one of the prized artifacts was taken. Six or so - we're still looking for more - guards were knocked out, but one dead body found at the scene the, um...Lament something was taken."

"Should I know who the victim was?" Bruce asked carefully, getting a shrug.

"Evelyn Harmon, New York City college professor. But we're looking for the video footage of who was responsible for this. Somehow whoever did this managed to avoid the cameras."

Talia couldn't have killed Professor Harmon, who had been her best friend and transferred to NYC, so Ra's had cleverly done it all his way. On his own; he might have been alone, but he still possessed much of his old ways. But where were they now? They had no leads or anything, and the sun was going down. It seemed it would take the entire night if he had anything to say about it.

~o~

Dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans and jacket, Jonathan exhaled as he watched as Wayne walked inside the museum with the police officer, but for what? He was the main benefactor to the museum - no surprise. But what was he, Batman?

The sooner he conjured that idea did it _dawn_ on him. Just like that.

 _What if HE was the Batman? Of course, it makes sense; I never let go of the idea the Bat having to be an exceedingly wealthy man who possesses all the gadgets in the city, perhaps the world._

And for that, he felt his anger burst when he took another look around at the immense spotlessness, modernized black finishes and fancy navigation and control set. Of course, the rest of Gotham were mindless wits, no more words needed to explain. He wondered if Talia knew, since she worked for him and was his closest friend...

"You figured it out."

He jumped and whirled around, seeing a very pretty woman sitting in the backseat, one leg crossed over the other and casually leaning back. Her long red hair flew about in a wild, breezy manner, her chocolate-colored eyes twinkling devilishly as they took him in. But her posture overall, Jonathan had seen it in another person - a _man_ \- he would never forget. And her voice was rough, overtaken with HIS... "I did, Ra's. So that was what Wayne tried to tell me but couldn't risk blowing his cover. I'm not surprised as much as I am furious, but I wasn't expecting to find you here, in his car."

"Are you surprised that I am not as you expected me? This body was mine the moment I laid my eyes on it." His woman host's lips curled into a half-smile.

"How did you survive?"

"Oh, that, my boy, is quite the story. A few of my men had recovered my body as well as one of an unfortunate soul in the Narrows who didn't make it; quite random, but at the same time, perfect and no one important that anyone would miss. Rebecca Granger lost her family a long time ago, been tossed away from the rest of the world and living on the streets as a common prostitute ever since then. She was killed by either an escaped maniac or perhaps another terrified Gotham civilian." That smile broadened as he leaned forward. "A simple matter of a sophisticated resurrection spell in her body that even you wouldn't explain, the brilliant mind you are, Doctor."

Jonathan looked out the window and saw no one approaching the car, not even the cops. He was relieved and anxious at the same time. Here was his former employer and short-lived mentor in the body of a woman, in the backseat of Bruce Wayne's - Batman's - car, and the hero himself was nowhere around. He brought his hand up to the side of his seat when he turned back around and tightened his hold. "I was a faithful employee of yours. I did everything you asked, but you lied to me. You deceived me."

Ra's' smile slowly dimmed before it flared back up. "You let your greed and love of your research get the best of you. You had that intellect enough you could have realized something was wrong from the beginning, my boy. And you dabbled with forbidden passions. With my daughter, and you paid your price for it."

"You _took my life from me,"_ Jonathan ground out. "You destroyed everything worse than the Batman ever did to me. I know in my heart you haven't killed my wife - your own daughter - because you want her to see me die again. At your hands."

"Which is why you come with me, quickly and quietly before anyone else sees us." Ra's held up a pair of dangling keys. "I have taken it upon myself to have a pair of my own to drive Wayne's engines to where we are going." He then climbed to the front and jumped into the driver's seat, sticking the key into the engine. "Before you ask me anything more, I have kept in secret contact from afar with my greatest student who turned against me in the end." As soon as the Lamborghini's engine was running, he turned his attention to Jonathan. "As did you."

In a matter of time, he was here now, back to the same warehouse his body had been torn apart and his soul taken from him. His whole world shattered. But now he was forced into a chair and had his wrists tied to the armrests just so he wouldn't try to escape. No use in struggling, then. So Jonathan settled on glaring indignantly up at his captor. It only made Ra's smile more.

"Oh, don't worry; we will wait all night for her and Wayne to catch up. Once she comes, I'll put an end to the both of you."

"You'll be depriving our son of both his parents," Jonathan pointed out coldly. Ra's laughed.

"Which only makes it easier for me. A boy would prove rather more useful to me than a daughter, experience telling me enough to know that." His face hardened. "You know, Talia was very much exceptional in her training, until she ungratefully left me to follow other pursuits. Enough being enough, her life ends with yours today. And there is no one stopping me."

~o~

"Jonathan? Jonathan, it's me, Talia! Where are you?"

No response came, so her heartbeat began to pick up at an abnormal speed. She knew right away that her father had found a way to return and kidnap him from her once again. There weren't many places he could have gone, so it was possible he'd returned to wherever Jonathan had died originally, and would hold Jonathan there, knowing she would go there and wind up walking into a trap. The location for the final showdown would very well be isolated.

 _He's going to guess again._

She was going to need back-up just in case the situation got out of hand, but she also knew that the one person she had in mind would be no match for the demonic Cenobites. The deeper, rational side of her knew that they would still follow on in taking her Jonathan back to their Hellish realm, and her with him. Either way, this was an outkill battle.

Rushing out back to her car, she quickly unlocked the door to the passenger seat and pulled out her mobile that rested there. She had Bruce on speed dial for situations like this. She was risking exposure, but she had no choice. He was all she had left.

 _"Talia."_

"Bruce." She breathed a sigh of relief, but then remembered he'd said her REAL name. "How did you know who I really was?" Playing idiot would not get her anywhere, and what was the point in lying if he knew her true identity?

 _"Your husband. I've followed you, tracked you. He told me everything, then we decided to come after you. We looked everywhere for you, but no trace of you or your father...Ra's."_ She sucked a breath but held it. _"Then we were at the museum. The Lament Configuration was stolen - again. You wouldn't know about that, would you?"_

"My father," she answered, though internally angry that he would betray their trust like this, but she ought to have expected it; Batman was still inside him. "He murdered Evey and brought me to her. He taunted me about Jonathan and our son, wanted the box again, but I grabbed it and got away." She leaned back against the car and sighed, her head throbbing and heart pounding. "Bruce, I owe you the whole story now, but Jonathan is in danger."

Talia immediately lapsed into the tale of how Jonathan returned to her - and it turned out Jonathan had already told him - and how she gave him three scumbags so he could grow stronger, John Daggett included among them. She heard Bruce utter a harsh intake of breath when she told him of the scene in the exhibit. "He…he killed Evey," she gasped out, unable to control the cries in her body any longer, her bones aching as a result. "He killed her all for that box. The puzzle box. He tried to kill me, but I got away with it. And I…I solved it."

The sudden outburst on the other line made her heart jump to the point of sending her into a coma. "You did WHAT?!"

"I solved the puzzle, Bruce," she answered calmly. "And they came: the Cenobites. I made a deal with them. I would lead them to Father, on one condition: if they would give me back Jonathan and left us alone. I believe Father took him back to wherever Jonathan died before being dumped into that pond."

She wasn't sure if Bruce was shaking his head as he exhaled sharply as he took in what he had just heard. "You have gotten yourself in a grave situation, Talia. I thought we were friends, but it seems we never were to begin with, all of these secrets and getting blood on your hands, being the daughter of the man who tried to kill millions of innocent people." He paused. "I will follow you, but this is an error you must fix yourself. You brought them into this world…only you can send them back."

There was a part of her that regretted opening that wicked thing to begin with, but it was necessary. She nodded. "I'll meet you back at the museum." He affirmed before the line disconnected. Talia stared at the mobile for only a moment before tossing it back into the seat and closing the door…not long before she heard _that bell_ again. _They're here,_ she realized upon smelling that stench of vanilla and feeling the cold at the back of her neck, making the hairs rise there. Slowly, she turned around, and there they stood, all four of them, watching her as if she were a fascinating sight to behold. It made her stomach fidget anxiously.

The leader stepped forward by a step, tall and graceful unlike any soldier on earth. _**"We want the man you promised us. Lead the way to him."**_

"You'll have him," Talia promised. "That was the deal. That man is not my father; he's a monster, and he ruined my life."

Without waiting to hear their reply, for she knew good and well they just wanted to get the job done and not waste anymore time for talk, she walked around the vehicle and got into the driver seat, revved up the engine and drove out of the cemetery.

Bruce was sitting on the stairs of the front entrance of the museum when she pulled up. His face was grim, hinged on uneasiness. She opened the door for him by leaning over as far as she could from the driver's seat for him. He said nothing to her for a few moments. The air around them was tense. It seemed he no longer felt comfortable around her, or was it temporarily given he had just learned who she really was? Talia was used to it, but now that he knew she, his longtime colleague and friend, was the daughter of a global terrorist and not the woman he thought she was. That last part hurt worse than the deaths of her mother and Jonathan.

"Do you hate me Bruce?" It was a foolish question, but she had to know.

"No." The answer and the voice were both tight. Talia wasn't fooled.

"You deceived the entire city for its own good and for the safety of yourself and your loved ones," she said softly. "I did the same, but I didn't follow my father's beliefs as much as I was trained with them. I followed my own path to help everyone as you. Why did you think I came up with the clean energy project?"

He groaned and threw his head back against the seat. "That's beside the point."

"I love Jonathan, but I will always cherish you as a friend." Why were they even having this discussion right now? The Cenobites were waiting for her to lead the way to their waiting prize. "And as a friend, I want you to -" She was cut off when there was the sound of a mobile ringing, and it certainly wasn't hers. She leaned in when Bruce pulled his out.

"Rebecca...or rather, Ra's," he corrected, answering it and putting it on speaker just for her - for the both of them. _Go on,_ he mouthed to her, holding the mobile up for her to take.

"You see us together," Talia spoke coldly, getting a rattling laugh.

 _"Not likely, but I know you're with him. The time has come, and I will provide you with the directions to come, and bring the box with you...if you want to see him again, daughter."_

He'd used Rebecca's phone and gave them the directions. "I'll wait outside if you need me," Bruce promised. "If you get the chance, text me a message." She wasn't sure how she would get the opportunity, but she knew she had her ways.

 _I'm a warrior at heart, remember?_

To anyone else in the Narrows, this warehouse would look like it had nothing going on, but she knew better than anyone else. And she was sure that, as she locked the door and ran up to the building and up the stairs, that the front door would be unlocked for her. Not just for her sake, but to give her a false sense of security and _then_ spring the trap.

"So, this is where he was killed," Bruce said softly, "on the night this neighborhood went to hell." Talia chewed her lip and silently nodded. _And where it ends here._

Bruce had a "no guns policy", but not she. She had retrieved the .45 that she'd kept in the glove compartment of her car, keeping it loaded and safety off as she hurried through the alleyway and found the door…which was ajar, as she predicted. Slowly, guard held up strong, she walked over and pushed it open slowly, gun raised and pointing in every direction she could.

So far, no sign of her father _or_ Jonathan. But that did not ease the tension she felt in her heart. She was more than ready to fire the second she saw movement. Instinct told her that Ra's - she would never call him Father again, and Aiden would never know of him - had Jonathan tied down somewhere, using him as bait.

She moved through the space with the stealth and silent speed of the ninja that she had been trained into from an early age. The boxes were no different in stacks and in columns than the last one she was inside in the city; the screen doors were either closed all the way or partially opened, but she could see outlines she knew well enough, so far not seeing who she was looking for. She sucked in a breath and held it as she continued her search - until finally she stopped upon hearing the voice behind her.

"Armed and prepared, very good. I taught you well."

"That's the only thing I will _ever_ thank you for." Talia whirled around to face the man she loathed with an absolute passion, keeping her gun aimed at him just in case he tried to move. She would not hesitate to hurt Rebecca's body even though it would hurt _her_. "And nothing else."

Ra's scoffed. "Ah, nothing else, eh?" He began to advance towards her ever so slowly. "Not even to thank your own father for giving you everything until you… _threw_ it away for a phobia-obsessed doctor in the greatest city in the world that thrives with the criminal underworld?"

"A man I loved until you took away from me for your own selfish lust for power!" Talia spat. Her comeback only made him smile, but before he could respond, there was a loud-rising creak from somewhere in the room, causing Ra's' head to jerk away from her and look around.

"What in heaven's name is _that_?" he wondered, half to her and half to himself. Talia half-smiled to herself. _Time to play…_

The whole warehouse was still yet in disrepair, for the cracks in the walls that had yet to be covered were beginning to light up and broaden to the point of resembling veins or arteries in the human body. To the point of illuminating parts of the room that remained in shadows, cut off from the eye's line of sight.

And now those revealed _them_ as they emerged, ready to take what they came for.

All four of them were eyeing Ra's the same way they viewed her upon first arrival, and it didn't fail to bring forth that feeling she had felt when seeing it.

However, it was a first to see the lead Cenobite's face contort ever so slightly into a face of enragement and eager to carry out punishment. _**"Ra's al Ghul."**_

She almost smiled when she saw her father's face bear that of horror that he had never before imagined happening to him before. "No…"

 _"We had to hear it from your own lips,"_ the female Cenobite rasped, lips tight as she surveyed him with an unreadable expression.

Talia was unsure if she should have a part in this, but then the leader was there for her. He looked her on with blank eyes, but his powerful voice spoke to her with small assurance. _**"This isn't for your eyes."**_

Ra's turned to her then, face a mask of fury, eyes blazing madly. "You set me up…bitch," he growled, moving her way, but he got no further when, out of the darkness somewhere, a hook fastened to the end of a chain shot forth and attached itself to his hand that rested on its side. He screamed then, even when he was dragged to the center of the room, trying to pry his hand from the deadly object that sank deep into his flesh and held him there. Another joined in so that both his hands were held high above his head like a prisoner in a dungeon, screaming endlessly.

Talia wanted to see him suffer, but this was beyond anything she could have comprehended, and Jonathan was somewhere in the area, waiting for her to rescue him. But her legs wouldn't will her backwards down the entry hall of doors. She could only hold herself together as more hooks shot from several places and ensnare Ra's, pulling the flesh to shreds as his screams echoed through her eardrums like the hollow echoing down a tunnel.

Finally she could take it no more. Turning, she fled down the hallway just as Ra's al Ghul - in the body of Rebecca - was pulled apart altogether with the force of a geyser from the earth.

~o~

 _He's dead,_ Talia thought as she dashed down the hallway until she came to a flight of stairs that went up. Perhaps her husband was up there somewhere. She wouldn't stop until she got to the top.

 _He's dead…Ra's al Ghul is dead…and now he can suffer in Hell for all eternity._

And then suddenly it hit her: _the box. I left it downstairs._ Talia just about abruptly stopped in her tracks and turned to hurry back down…only to freeze halfway down upon spotting the female Cenobite slowly, gracefully making her way up the stairs, mouth twitched upward slightly in amusement. In her left hand was a dangerous-looking, hook-like tool scraping the wall beside her and leaving blood droplets in the process.

 _"Not leaving us so soon, are you?" Of_ course it would come to this, as she'd comprehended since opening the box. The Cenobites - the masters of pain and pleasure - were going to take her to their world of paradise and purgatory… _where there are no limits._

Talia spun on her heel and ran up the steps as fast as she could. She had been here enough times to know which room was which, and rounded the corner so she found another room - and just about cried out at two things she found: first, there was a woman's corpse on the bed, chains penetrated from the walls above her head and going down so the hooks peeled back the flesh of her face to show red sinews and muscles and gore.

And in her hands was _the box,_ secured in both hands and shining madly, the black lines of the design bursting with light and making the gold parts black in their stead. And there was also -

"Talia!" Jonathan - _her_ Jonathan - was sitting in a chair not too far away from the doorway, his wrists roped to the arms, now struggling to get out. She would, soon enough, but first thing was first. She dived onto the bed and immediately snatched the box from the dead hands, seeing that it was still in the uneven star shape, ready to return to its original form. Her fingers found their own way of trying to revert it back.

And then she felt it again: that cold gush of wind brushing against the back of her neck, and seeing Jonathan's face that something - or rather, s _omeone_ \- behind her. A voice that could very much shake the walls spoke there: _**"We have such sights to show you."**_

"Shit," Talia hissed when she spun around to see the lead Cenobite looking down at her, standing, at most, nearly over six feet tall, gazing at her expectantly. She knew then, at that last minute, that she needed to do what she did in the very beginning to open this thing; her thumb circled the middle round section at the top, and when she did, the sections which had clockwise rotated began to rise, displeasing the leader all at once.

 _ **"No,"**_ he demanded furiously, _**"don't do that."**_

"GO TO HELL!" Talia burst out, wasting no time in pushing down the pieces back to their original state.

A flash before her eyes blinded her to the point of squeezing her eyes tight, her ears serving as the only function to take in the echoing screams of protest from the lead Cenobite that followed his vanish from the earth.

Opening her eyes, Talia heard Jonathan shout "Behind you!" and turned to see the female in the doorway, the bloodied hook in her hand raised in preparation to meet her flesh should she ever come any closer. _Think again, bitch,_ Talia thought, feeling her face twist savagely as her fingers did their thing once more, pushing underneath the box to force upwards a rectangular section that soon slid back into place, the same routine following in taking this one back to Hell.

The only sounds heard from her were a high-pitched scream of unimaginable terror.

~o~

"Talia, get me out of here!" Jonathan was starting to panic only slightly, as debris was beginning to fall from the ceilings of the warehouse. This place that had once been his original "last scene on Earth", deteriorating as the creatures who tormented him in a Hellish dimension that he would never go back to again.

He was free now.

But that meant that they had to get out of this place now. And fast.

His wife was by his side, having retrieved a pair of scissors from somewhere in the room and beginning to work on his bindings that were easy to sever but difficult for him to break free from on his own. Once the weight on his wrists was gone, arms enveloped around him for a tight embrace. He sighed passionately with the realization that he was embracing his Talia for the first time in a long time.

~o~

Smoke and debris had gotten into her nostrils as she took a breath while leading the way down the stairs, Jonathan in tail as fast as his long legs could carry him. Talia coughed, nearly falling down the steps, leaning to her right on the rail handle for support. Once she was sure her footing was secure, she continued down till she reached the bottom.

No sooner had she rounded the corner did both she and Jonathan stop when they heard the sound of chattering teeth…and the leather-clad figure with the peeled-back face, and the stench of vanilla and death that made her stomach queasy.

The chatterer was walking their way, and she realized that she didn't have the box on her, turning behind her then to see that her husband was holding it, and that a fragment of the cube had gotten out of place, and with a determined look on his face, he pushed it down with all his might. Resulting in yet another flash of light, and the chatterer Cenobite was gone, like the others.

But there was yet one more to be rid of.

"Where's the last?" Jonathan asked, though it sounded like he was wondering out loud and not asking her directly. Talia opened her mouth, but didn't get the chance to respond until there was a noise behind them, spinning around, wondering if the fourth and final, bloated one had made its appearance - but it was none other than -

"Bruce," she breathed a sigh of relief when her dearest friend finally made his appearance, everything else momentarily forgotten until….until she saw the shorter, bloated figure emerge from the shadows, the black sunglasses removed to show eyes sewn shut by thin black thread - and its arm raised with a small blade in hand. "BRUCE!" Talia screamed, falling back into Jonathan's arms and making Bane whirl around and see what his unknown threat was, backing away in time for a section of roof to free itself overhead and collapse on top of this "butterball" of the four.

 _Highly doubtful that it killed him,_ Talia thought, but it did not matter to her at the present. This place was deteriorating enough as it was. She released herself from Jonathan's arms and threw her own around Bruce's thick neck for a tight hug. His larger ones squeezed her tiny waist in return.

"Let's go."

~o~

The newspaper read the headline two days later: _Artifact and Widowed Wayne Enterprises Junior Exec Missing._ Beneath it was a long story detailing how the Gotham City Museum of Antiquities had suffered yet another break-in, resulting in the Lament Configuration stolen once more, but it was never recovered. As of now until further notice, the museum was closed down for reconstruction in the exhibit. And most of all, it continued with the missing Miranda Crane, junior executive of Wayne Industries and widow of the infamous Scarecrow, Dr. Jonathan Crane, former head doctor of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Half of Gotham believed she was dead; others believed she had something to do with the stolen puzzle box.

Which was why said missing woman was on a cruise with her family on the way to England. To start a new life fresh.

Everything about her had been erased since the past two days' events, with the usage of a tool given to her by Bruce uneasily: a clean slate, where you typed in someone's name and date of birth, and in a few minutes all records were wiped clean from the face of the earth. Jonathan laughed to himself and shook his head, putting the paper down. _All too good to be true._

He looked over to his side, hearing the little laughter from his young son - his look-alike, bearing his piercing eyes - and smiled at how happy the boy was, making him feel the same way. And there was the woman he loved, sunny and at peace despite all the trauma she endured at the hands of her father and the Cenobites; but she had been through Hell all of her life, and was finally leaving it to start anew elsewhere. With him. And their son, Aiden, would grow up knowing both his parents instead of one.

He remembered how Wayne, since despite recent events he would not consider him a friend of his - _he was the Batman; he sprayed me with my own toxin and took my whole career from me. He was Talia's friend, but never will he be mine_ \- was unsure of letting them both get away to face trial before they boarded. _"You should at least stay and help with the city, Talia,"_ he'd offered, making Jonathan hold onto their son as he watched on. _"You are one of the few I trust who can help clean up the city."_

Talia had shaken her head no then, her face sad and on the verge of cracking. _"As much as I want to, my family is first and foremost. I must get them to safety. Jonathan is a changed man, I assure you."_ Oh, but he intended to return to work as soon as possible. Although his old notes and everything had been taken by the police after his disappearance, but no matter. He remembered much of it from memory. _"And my father will no longer be a threat to the city. Gotham has a new future without the scum in the streets, now that the Dent Act has begun."_

Another reason for him to get away. Established rule announcement was that any criminal caught would be denied parole and sent to Blackgate Prison. If he were so, he would serve life sentence without hopes of being released. He'd have thought Batman would have wanted to see him locked up, but then Wayne surprised them. _"I would have said he needed to be tried,"_ he'd said with a glance his way, before his dark eyes lowered to Aiden in his father's arms, softening, _"but the boy needs you both. I was Batman not for myself, but for everyone in Gotham. It's whether or not the person is a criminal or not."_ He'd allowed himself to be wrapped in Talia's arms for an embrace. _"Take care of yourselves,"_ he told them both, and finally allowed a smile to show for Jonathan. Surprisingly enough even to himself, Jonathan returned it.

If anyone was wondering about the Lament Configuration, it had been tossed overboard as soon as they were far out and halfway across the Atlantic Ocean, sinking so low no one would ever find it again.

Jonathan Crane stood up from his sun chair on the deck of the cruise ship to join his wife and son, still smiling.

 **I really hope you all liked this blend of a beloved comic adaptation and one of the greatest horror classics. :) This story of an immoral man obsessed with fear who sinks lower than intended and gets more than he bargained for - but all of it for the one thing which made him a deserving human being (if that makes sense to anyone). I always imagined there might be SOME form of chemistry or attraction at least between Dr. Crane and his boss' daughter, but I'm surprised no one even attempted until I did.**


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